Heroes Never Lose
by Culverin
Summary: The year is 2076. The people cheer on the revived heroes of Overwatch, as they strive to defend the values of truth and justice. But there are some heroes who remain unsung. Even less who are bald and have a craving for udon.
1. The First Punch

"Remind me why I thought this was a good idea."

"Something about raising your DPM. Whatever that's supposed to mean." Hana pursed her lips, before lighting up upon her realization. "Besides, someone had to volunteer for the frontlines. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now."

"Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time!" Hana snapped back, the face of her pink mech glaring angrily at Jack, who didn't even bother facing toward her. This resulted in more pouting from the mech pilot.

On the other hand, the hearty laughter from a certain bulky hero did help to ease some of the tension. "No worries! There's nothing like a good fight to get your morning going!"

If his cheer had any influence on Pharah, her face certainly said otherwise. "Let's not get too excited. Remember the mission: hold off as many drones as you can until Torbjorn can get disable it from the inside. The local militia is already spread thin with the evacuation, and even then," She pointed a finger at the monstrosity that loomed over the city. "I doubt any of us have the manpower to take on something like that."

No one could fault her words; Titan Omnics were among the largest and the most devastating threats up to date. Originally designed to construct skyscrapers efficiently, they had been remodeled for the sole purpose of destruction, in an ironic twist of fate.

Its power made itself known once again when a laser blasted out of the port of its arm, bisecting several buildings. The angle of the cut caused them to slide down, before smashing against its neighboring buildings, and decimating entire segments of the road.

Though the militia ordered a city-wide evacuation, it proved to be rather pointless. A giant fifty foot mech in the middle of the city tends to inspire a certain excitement among the populace. Especially when it has a skull for a face along with glowing red eyes.

Most of the citizens evacuated, but that still left one problem. One that was more than fifty feet tall. And of course, Overwatch had no choice but to attend to the matter. 'Save the day', as they called it. Jack preferred the phrase 'cleaning up the government's mess'.

"So. Anything else we should know before we get started?" asked Hana.

"Well, if you'd bothered to listen during the mission briefing… at least a hundred drones are deployed each minute, according to Torbjorn. We spread out to cover more ground if they disperse, but if they're condensed then we hold formation." Jack elaborated, his visor hiding the frown he made.

"And remember, keep away from the Titan at ALL costs." Pharah added. "None of us will survive for long if we're caught up in one of its missile barrages." As if to emphasize her point, a block went up in flames as a storm of missiles made impact. Inside of his helmet, Reinhardt grinned at the excitement. The others' expressions were unreadable, save for Hana's, who, frankly, didn't feel as vigorous as the others.

"Let's just hope Torbjorn's faster than he looks. With legs as short as his, I'd be surprised if he could actually make it to the cockpit." added Hana.

"Don't worry. He knows the beast inside and out. He helped build it after all." A painful reminder from Reinhardt, but true nonetheless. No one felt as disheartened as Reinhardt when it came to Torbjorn's work, especially since he had the best of intentions. Noticing the sudden change in atmosphere, Jack quickly sought to change the subject of the matter.

"Let's just make sure we do this right. You all know the plan." Following his words, a small cluster of red dots appeared on Hana's visor. They then proceeded to grow in number, forming a large red splotch staining part of the holographic map.

"Uh guys…" By then, they noticed it as well. In the middle of another missile barrage, a segment of the Titan's back began to unfold and unhinge. Despite being at least several miles away, their sight did not betray them.

A plethora of drones, like an angry beehive after being whacked several times, began pouring out of the Titan's back and washed over the city like an aggressive fog. Donning laser cannons and missile packs that were especially devastating when wielded in vast numbers, there was a reason why they were designated to back up the robotic giant.

The first time they had been deployed, more than half the arriving military forces were vastly overwhelmed, severely cutting down their morale and probably any chance of them taking the massive machine head on. If Torbjorn hadn't been there, things would have definitely gone worse.

This time, things would be different.

Jack's visor began filtering targets with utmost efficiency. 's fusion cannons whirred to life. Pharah's rocket launcher unfolded from inside her arm. Reinhardt pulled out a cloth from seemingly nowhere and wiped the screen of his helmet before wearing it again. They were ready for a battle.

The massive cloud of drones dispersed over the city, a particularly large segment pouring in their direction. It seemed their presence had not gone unnoticed. Impressive that the Titan's targeting capability had been improved to recognize more substantial threats.

"So much for the splitting up plan…" Hana idly commented. With their weapons ready and their foes coming to greet them, the four agents of Overwatch prepared for a dramatic battle.

But a dramatic battle would not occur that day.

"Incinerate!" A blinding light and a resounding crack followed the sudden battlecry. It covered every corner of their vision, forcing the four protectors to assume a guarded stance, their arms covering their faces. A shockwave thundered against their bodies, forcing them back, even Reinhardt for all his bulk was worth.

It soon became clear just what perpetrated their momentary blindness, when a breath of hot air entered their lungs. A massive torrent of flames washed through the streets and across the sky, burning up all that blockaded its rampage, as though a miniature sun combusted right then and there on 17th Street. Sweat began to pour as the relentless heat thrashed against their skin. Only after several prolonged seconds did the barrage of fire finally cease.

The defenders of the city, now relieved of their lack of sight, noticed three things. For one, the skies were completely empty, devoid of any and all drones as compared to before. The shattered visors and wings strewn across the ground served as the only reminders of their brief existence.

The second would be the unbelievable amount of char that filled up the block. Black splotches constituted every road, sidewalk, and stop sign. Not even the innards of the buildings were spared of this; enough char made it inside to coat the floors almost completely. The shattered windows probably gave way during the blast.

Fareeha coughed several times as smoke entered her lungs. She then looked up to observe a silhouette unveiling itself in the waning cloud of smoke, his arms outstretched and glowing molten orange.

His skin bore an unnatural shade of gray similar to the smoke.

"Is that… " Her words fell on deaf ears, still ringing from the blast. They could only stare at the newcomer with wide eyes.

Then, to everyone's shock, he put on a burst of speed that put even Tracer's time warping abilities to shame. The machine man simply vanished from sight at the speed he moved at, stopping in front of an even more ludicrous sight.

"Master!" The four defenders were forced to shield their faces once again the moment they turned, another blinding light seemingly emerging from nowhere. Only this time the culprit was not a torrent of flames, but rather a forehead. Jack flicked on the 'shade' setting of his visor, and began wishing he didn't.

He wasn't sure which to address first, the fact that this man didn't follow evacuation protocols or that he apparently chose to dress up as some obscure superhero he didn't know of.

Of course, the ridiculous amount of sunlight his forehead refracted at them also demanded addressing.

Oblivious to their plight, the hero turned to address his disciple. "Oh, nice. You cleared out all of them."

"Yes. However, scans indicate there are more being manufactured within that contrivance. I suspect it won't be too long before more drones swarm the city."

"A walking factory, huh? Cool." Saitama turned toward the behemoth of a machine, and raised a fist. "Guess I'll have to beat it. Just give me a sec."

"Hey, just hold on a minute…!" Sadly, neither of them noticed the aging soldier.

"Do they have udon around here? I could probably use some."

"One moment." It didn't take long for Genos' processors to find results. "There is one several blocks north of here, in relatively good condition. They are closed on Sundays, however." He pointed down the street, where black splotches covered a small building, coating even the small parking lot up front.

"Oh. Well that's… good to know."

"Guys? What's going on?" Hana asked. All she got in response was a collective shrug. She hated moments like this when she had no idea how to proceed.

"What are they even doing? Shouldn't they be-"

A sudden gust of wind threw them back, stopping Jack mid sentence. A tremor nearly threw them to the ground, a large crater appearing out of nowhere a second after. Jack pulled himself up, and looked towards the sky to see something very yellow and very bald flying towards the Titan Omnic at unimaginable speeds.

If anything, Saitama was grateful he had a lot of practice doing light hops. Usually when fighting enemies this large, he would sometimes overshoot, either missing entirely or ending up in another city by accident. Then there was that time he accidentally crashed into someone's bedroom, at a particularly bad moment. He shivered.

Never again.

Back on the surface, Genos' glowing eyes kept track of his master's movements, just barely making out the image of the human missile that his master resembled.

"ETA: 7.29 seconds from impact."

"...What?" Fareeha managed to get out.

"I recommend that you have several repair crews ready in advance. Collateral will become an issue in the next few seconds."

"I… huh?" Fareeha gave up on forming an actual response. They weren't exactly trained in dealing with situations involving cyborgs and cosplaying bald people. And what exactly did he mean by 'impact'?

They would receive their answer soon enough.

Saitama continued blasting through the air, the mechanical terror growing bigger with every second. The supersonic speeds he traveled at combined with the aerodynamic nature of his egg-shaped head caused ripples of pure energy to strafe right past his body. But even with the wind pressure battering him like a disgruntled jackhammer, his mouth formed a straight line, expressing no emotion to the situation at hand.

His utmost resolve temporarily turned to that of disgust when a mosquito disintegrated against his cheek.

The skeletal face-plating certainly did much to intimidate all who opposed its might, but appearance alone could only get one so far. As the technological monstrosity rampaged across the city, with its weapons trained on every building and roadway in sight, something else entirely came up on its sensors.

It turned its attention away from the tanks that fired at it, and toward something akin to a fighter jet. No, not a fighter jet. It moved far too fast for that, even by Mk.5 standards. Some kind of prototype weapon designed by the enemy?

A man. A bald man in a yellow outfit, to be more specific. The machine had little time to ponder this anomaly, how and why a bald man would be flying directly towards one of the strongest weapons ever built. Even less to realize what happened the instant something red struck its visor.

The fist made impact.

For just the briefest of moments, it seemed as though every particle converged into one singular mass, the hydrogen particles igniting to create something similar to a flashbang thrown into a nuke . The inner wirings of the machine stuttered, before disintegrating completely. Only Genos' augmented vision picked up on this rare moment.

As though the heavens decided that today would be the perfect day to rain some much deserved karma on the city of Caligo, metal scraps of a once terrifying weapon of mass destruction did just that. Everyone in the city, the militiamen, those who haven't had the fortune of evacuating in time, and most importantly the agents of Overwatch, had their jawlines separated entirely.

Jack's visor fell off entirely because of said jaw length. Torbjorn, sitting on the Omnic's foot with a wrench held out, dropped his beaker of molten metal, which landed on his foot. Something he didn't notice until about five seconds later, when screams of agony could be heard in the distance by several people. Genos only watched with a silent gaze, having long become accustomed to his master's ridiculous level of power.

Reinhardt gradually stared at the sky as the massive metal scraps rained from the sky, the behemoth's legs being the only components that remained intact.

"Well, uhhh..." he finally said.. "Does... does anyone want to explain what just happened?"


	2. Discrepancy

A loud yawn reverberated throughout the confines of their room. Much to the discomfort of its residents the accommodations only consisted of a square, metal table, surrounded by four gray chairs. On the ceiling hung a set of fluorescent lights, which bounced off the white walls, making the room seem brighter than it should.

The bald hero blinked several times in annoyance. Why didn't that bird woman inform them how long their trip would be? If she did then he would have brought a manga, or at least a magazine to keep him busy. That could have compensated for the fact that the seats were rock hard, and for the entire trip he couldn't sleep because at it felt as though someone repeatedly jabbed at his back with a long metal pole. Part of him almost wanted to file a complaint for terrible flight service, but he decided against it. For now, at least.

"Are you well, master?" asked Genos from across the table. The cyborg, for his part, exercised his patience somewhat more diligently, but his concern for his master did not waver.

Saitama blinked several times, failing to process the question for the first few seconds. "Fine… Back just hurts. Need sleep too." he muttered.

"Indeed. I noticed on the airship you constantly shifted around in your seat in an attempt to find a comfortable position. This would prove difficult, as the posture encouraged by that kind of seating is deficient to your health. Sitting in that position for long periods of time include symptoms such as back pain, numbness, migraines of varying severities, as well as-"

"Alright…! Alright. I get it, I get it. No need to turn it into another lecture." A deep sigh escaped Saitama. Even if he didn't want to endure his student's ramblings at the moment, he certainly made a good point. Whoever designed the plane obviously must have been extremely short; the back support reached far too low for Saitama's liking. The constant groans from the other end of the vehicle suggested he wasn't the only one suffering from the seating.

Times like those really made him wish he had Genos' augmentations, which rendered practically all of the basic human needs. He learned on a bus ride some time ago that his visors doubled as a sort of browser, which could search the internet whenever he felt like it. If he had a week Saitama couldn't list all the ways he would use something like that. Maybe it was his lack of sleep that made him hallucinate, but during the flight he could've sworn he heard the faint sounds of 'Mob Choir 99' coming from Genos' general direction.

Right now, though, he just wanted to take a good, long, nap. On a comfortable surface, preferably. Maybe he could get a futon if he asked. Or something to eat. He didn't realize it until now, but he was actually kind of hungry.

As he pondered this, Genos fixated on the entrance to their temporary residence. His orange glare intimidated the steel door, but it focused more on the small window conjoined beside it. Not much could be seen, besides the gray hallway and the stretching rows of lights. But from Genos' scans, the walls and the floors incorporated an unusually high quantity of metal, not just any kind of metal but a reinforced alloy capable of withstanding extreme pressures, stacked in multiple layers. Leading an attack on a structure like this would not only be foolhardy but downright suicidal.

To the cyborg, it only warranted further caution.

"...Tell me master. Are you it was wise, agreeing to come here? I am aware of our current predicament, but we still know little of Overwatch, including its operatives."

"Well, Fir-Fer… that bird lady seemed nice enough. Even if the flight service was terrible." He grumbled the last few words. "And they seem to know more than we do. I'm just hoping they can figure out what's going on."

"True, they could be helpful. Perhaps they know more about the Mirror Wraiths."

"Mirror Wraiths?"

"The alien monsters you defeated in City Y. The ones that look like Emmy Awards."

"Oh, right. Those guys." Strange. They looked more like Oscars to him.

"Well, their defeat seems to be linked to our arrival here. The Monster Wiki did say something about them having dimensional powers, so I thought maybe that had something to do with it."

"Did you find anything else?"

"I tried accessing the wiki page during the flight, but for some reason I couldn't. In fact, there appears to be no mention of monsters on the internet." explained Genos. He found it concerning that such a vital database could be missing. "I contacted the Hero Association but that was futile as well."

"Weird. Is the router broken again?"

"I don't think so. Kid Emperor installed a new one just last week. Either way we can't contact the Association, and I can't get in touch with any of the other heroes as well. I suppose consulting these people is the best option we have." Genos admitted. Though in truth, if this organization wanted to try anything, then they probably would have been smarter about it. But even then, Genos knew the strength of his master. Any trouble that came their way, he would definitely handle it. As long as it didn't involve damage fees or market sales.

"Well, hopefully we don't have to wait here for much longer. I could probably use some food right now." Saitama rested his head on the table. He didn't like taking naps sitting up, but with how tired he was he couldn't care less at the moment. It would have been peace and tranquility until they could figure something out.

Would have.

A buzzing noise rang somewhat loudly, thanks to the pouring silence in the room. It almost didn't register in the hero's head, but something landed on his forehead and sat there. Groggy, sullen eyes lifted open. They looked up to find a small insect perched on his temple.

In a blur of motion, a red streak split the air, his palm striking his forehead at ludicrous speeds. Genos stared blankly as steam guzzled off of the red glove, no doubt from the sheer velocity his palm traveled. After a few seconds, the fly hovered out harmlessly from the space between his forehead and his palm, the loud buzzing promptly resuming.

The fly then landed on the center of the table. His head still rested on the table, Saitama lazily yet meticulously swung his palm where the fly stood. An echoing clap thundered from his hand, shattering the sound barrier multiple times, with shards of metal scattering everywhere as the table split in half almost instantly.

Unfortunately, Saitama failed to realize the consequences of his action. With the table he leaned on now shattered, his body abruptly swung towards the floor, his shocked face slamming against the cold metal floor in a heap of metal splinters and dust. As he lay on the ground, an oblivious fly continued to buzz beside his head.

"...Master? Are you alright?" Genos must have phrased that poorly, because all of a sudden a plethora of red and yellow afterimages swarmed the room, with clapping noises rapidly thundering throughout the air.

Genos' briefly pondered interfering, but it was probably better to let his master deal with his foe. He opened the internet browser installed on his visors, not at all bothered by the constant shockwaves that whisked past his body.

In the midst of the battle, the sounds of thrash metal remained unheard by all but Genos.

* * *

"This is Christina Collins, coming to you live from Vulpex Studios with a special report. Just yesterday at approximately noon, an Omnic Titan emerged off the coast of Caligo City. It wasn't long before it began rampaging across the city, forcing the local militia to order a citywide evacuation. Soon after military forces from nearby regions deployed en masse in an effort to repel the attack. But despite their best efforts, they were soon overwhelmed by the massive machine. By the time they called in Overwatch, most of the city was already in ruin. However, the arrival of the resurrected heroes was soon followed by a most unexpected turn of events."

The screen then switched to a camera feed. The recording focused on the Omnic Titan as it rampaged across the city, decimating buildings and entire roadways, the explosions causing fires to spread erratically.

Then in the span of an instant, the Omnic Titan exploded, a brilliant flash temporarily rendering the screen white. A brief shockwave caused the camera to shake uncontrollably for a few seconds before stabilizing.

Two severed legs standing upright were all that remained of the behemoth.

"According to our sources, Overwatch sent in Torbjorn to deal with the Omnic threat, destroying the machine from the inside. While casualty and injury rates remain unknown, reconstruction of the city is already underway, thanks to the efforts of Torbjorn and the rest of Overwatch. Much of the city is already expressing their gratitude."

Various images of public crowds holding up various signs of approval appeared on screen. Many wore t-shirts with Overwatch logos; others took it a step further by cosplaying as their favorite heroes, with various Tracer and lookalikes showing up more often. Some of the crowds bunched together around the severed legs, where various thank you messages had been sprayed onto the metallic limbs.

"We'll keep you updated on the status of Caligo City, so remember to stay tuned in for the latest reports. On a completely irrelevant topic, purple llamas are now-"

The monitor turned off before she could continue. The city certainly knew how to express its gratitude. A shame it was misplaced. The Omnic Titan may have been destroyed, but now a more pressing concern took precedence.

"Well, that's the official report." In front of the blank monitor sat a rather hefty gorilla donned in a set of high tech armor. To anyone else, he would have been an intimidating sight if he wasn't shifting around on the small swivel chair constantly. Clearly whoever designed the thing clearly did not have gorillas in mind.

"That was rather speculative." observed Pharah. "She was pretty vague on a lot of details. It makes me wonder what kind of 'sources' they used."

Jack turned to her. "What were they supposed to say? That a bald cosplayer and his robot compatriot were the ones we should be thanking?" Pharah had to concede to that point.

"Enough you two." Winston turned around in his swivel chair, almost falling off when it tilted from his sheer weight. "While the situation at hand is certainly unprecedented, you can't deny that the boost in public approval has been extremely beneficial to our cause. With this much support, we are now one step closer to reassembling Overwatch."

"Yeah. Tirion and Eitrigg made contact not too long ago. Said they were interested in joining up again, after yesterday's occurrences." said Jack as he arched his back several times.

"Indeed, they- are you two alright?" He adjusted his glasses, not that he needed them to understand that his colleagues were in pain. Especially when they were constantly arching backwards. With a mind as brilliant as his, it didn't take him long to reach a conclusion. "Did you use Torbjorn's hover plane again?"

"What do you think?" Pharah snapped. "Do you know how painful it is sitting on a chair designed for people his height!?"

Winston didn't respond, electing to remain silent instead. He specifically told the dwarf to fix all of the chairs on his hover plane just yesterday after it had been reinstated. There had been an incident where an entire squadron got hospitalized due to injuries in the spinal cord. Immediately after they quarantined it with miles of yellow tape and rows of warning signs. Not one of their finest moments.

Being stuck for hours in that torture device caused shivers to travel down Winston's spine. Perhaps it came time to abandon quarantine protocols and turn towards some more drastic measures. Preferably in the form of some petrol cans and a lighter.

"...Anyways, where was I? Oh yes. We'll have Tirion rendezvous at one of our other locations for now. As of the moment we still have two 'guests' we need dealing with. What were their names again?"

"Genos and Saitama. The former has some fire-based weaponry built into him. As he demonstrated before, it is capable of smoldering entire blocks. The other one, well… "

"He's something else entirely." Jack added. "I first assumed someone screwed with my visor, but everyone else seemed just as confused as me."

"So it's true, then? He really did destroy the Titan?" Winston asked. Pharah and Jack simultaneously nodded, albeit rather slowly. Though seeing was believing, they still struggled to convince themselves they hadn't been tossed into the insanity of some obscure manga, as tempting as it was.

Winston, deep in thought, began to hum subconsciously. Hana had been the first one to jump on the receiver and begin rambling about the whole spectacle. Winston, who busied himself with paperwork at the time, immediately came to the conclusion that the science division invented a new form of weed behind his back. Thankfully, his older, more mature colleagues dissuaded that theory, leaving behind the matter of the bald incarnation of collateral damage.

Even now he struggled to understand these two characters. He knew no one capable of designing the cataclysmic weaponry described in the robot's arsenal. The only device capable of matching that level of power was the Doomfist, but even that was a rare technological achievement beyond their standards.

The other individual, on the other hand, truly was an anomaly. At least the android had some kind of logic behind his destructive potential, but a bald man, supposedly cosplaying for a living, leaping several miles with a single bound? That alone defied all science, let alone the destruction of a mountain-sized weapon designed to level cities, by his hand alone. But the footage couldn't lie, and two of his colleagues confirmed it for themselves.

Winston meshed his hands and his feet together. He could worry about physics later. "I'm… still very unclear on a few things. A lot of things, actually. Though to be fair I doubt anyone could have foreseen this incident. So first, let's review what we know."

"Concerning our current situation, there's little we know about our guests. Right now they're currently the most unstable elements." Jack explained. "We also know little to nothing about them, besides their tremendous power. And the longer they stay in this building, the more of a threat they become to everyone in it, and possibly everyone in its vicinity as well. Something's going to go down pretty soon if we don't come up with something"

"I thought that was the whole reason why they were brought here. Was I mistaken?"

"That was never deliberated. Pharah here-" Jack jabbed a thumb at her. "...acted on her own accord."

"I was just doing what I thought was best." Pharah countered. "I saw them walking towards Shawaruma Cafe, so I took the chance while I could."

"You were supposed to help maintain security while they set up reconstruction efforts. Especially with omnic-human tensions rising of late. The attack has caused the omnic population to be viewed in a more negative light, and with local enforcement in turmoil there's bound to be an increase in criminal activity. I had to pull some strings because of you; I'm not that fond of the law myself in case you haven't forgotten."

"I just meant to keep an eye on them, that's all. I didn't think it would escalate."

"We'll deal with the public later. Let's focus on our two guests for now. It's true that we still don't know much about them, but from what Pharah told us earlier it's very likely that they are in the dark as much as we are. So why not a bit of quid pro quo?" he suggested, garnering some curious looks from the other two. "We could learn much from them if we simply ask."

"A direct approach? Not the smartest idea, Winston." Jack shot back. "If we agitate them in any way this base is as good as dead."

"I beg to differ." Winston frowned. He knew about Jack's lack of appreciation for the straightforward approach, always preferring to think twice before acting. But this wasn't exactly a battlefield, and the situation was anything but normal. "If they intended any harm they had plenty of opportunities to do it. Honestly I'm surprised they even agreed to come here in the first place."

"Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

At that moment something seemed to explode in the proximity, its fading echo becoming known to the three in the room. Immediately after something akin to a miniature earthquake nearly threw them all to the ground. Pharah and Jack struggled to maintain their footing while Winston spun around helplessly in his undersized swivel chair. Dust parted from the ceiling and the lights flickered for a few seconds, but thankfully it didn't last.

"What the hell was that?!" shouted Jack. Pharah, already in motion, shoved her helmet on and stormed out the door. Winston could only stare up at the ceiling, where the rupture echoed from. Neither he nor Jack parted any words, simply observing the new cracks in their ceiling.

What were they up to now?

* * *

"How do you think he's able to pull off something like that? Did they like, create a new Doomfist model? Because that would be pretty sick." ranted a jumpy Hana, whose excitement knew no bounds. Much to the chagrin of those around her, she endlessly went on and on about the events of yesterday. Reinhardt, on the other hand, more than welcomed the geniality.

"Ha…! If only that were the case." he said, as he and his shorter companion strolled down the hallway beside each other. They discarded their combat gear for some more casual sets of clothing. For Hana they included a blue hoodie, while Reinhardt stuck with a black t-shirt and jeans. "Truth be told, the idea of someone else taking up the Doomfist makes me feel old."

"...Yeah, I guess you're right." It wasn't as though the current Doomfist would express any interest in such a thing, especially concerning his behavior in Numbani. "And honestly, someone that bald doesn't really fit the Doomfist moniker."

"Ha…! Barely a year in my sixties and my hair is still as silver as ever!" For added effect he brushed back his hair, the light bouncing off to announce its magnificent resolve. Not a single bald spot tainted its caliber. Just doing that made him feel as though he were reliving the glory days.

"What about that robot guy?" Hana asked. "Do you think the omniums were responsible?"

"Dunno. Doesn't look like much of an omnic to me." He actually kind of resembled Genji, now that he thought about it. He'd have to ask him about later; maybe he knew him from somewhere. "I'll give him this though, that's one helluva flamethrower he has tucked away in his arms." For a second there Reinhardt would have liked to believe that an actual dragon entered the battlefield.

"I know right? How come they don't outfit MY mech with that kind of weaponry?" she whined. Reinhardt, for his part, could only bellow in laughter. Hana proved herself talented not only in gaming, but also on the battlefield. He doubted someone like her needed THAT much DPS. Although he couldn't deny that it would be pretty epic. "...Remind me to call MEKA later. This is a serious matter."

Reinhardt was too busy fantasizing about fire breathing dragons and goblin armies to hear her.

They would have continued their conversation on the brilliance of broken weapons if it weren't for the rapid footsteps coming from behind.

"Get back here! I'm not finished with you yet!" Reinhardt for one, never ran from a fight. He intended to fight evil for as long as he breathed. But he wasn't stupid either, so when he turned around to find an enraged Saitama making a beeline at him, his reflexes kicked in, forcing him to swing against the wall. And from the looks of it, Hana followed suit. Good thing too, because less than a second later a blur of yellow and red rushed past them, a small vacuum of wind brushing against their bodies and kicking up a plume of dust.

They both looked down at the reinforced titanium floor, contorted by several imprints in the shape of a boot.

"What are you doing sitting there? What's going on- oh. Oh." They turned to see that Pharah had arrived to join in on the madness. She too, noticed the neat pattern of footprints leading down the hallway, and begun to understand a few implications.

Something similar to subsonic eruptions seemed to occur in the distance, with faint cries of 'Come back here!' or 'Stand still dammit!' barely being heard in the vicinity. Pharah hung her head, and let out a sigh of resignation.

This was going to be a long day.


	3. Discrepancy II

Though it only came with monumental effort, the reinstatement of the renowned defenders of the world marked a new era. Though in truth, their ideals never really died. People have always looked up to heroes, and though diminished that inspiration never truly died. Of course, trust between the heroes and the people takes time to build. At its peak, Overwatch reach throughout the nations of the world. No doubt reestablishing such a widespread connection would demand blood, sweat, and tears.

Recommissioning Watchpoint: Caligo had only been the first step. Its relative proximity to other cities and a satellite surveillance system made it invaluable to responding to trouble. It even had a plethora of contingencies put into place, including an automated defense system and ten layers of firewalls. Anyone who intended to barge into the front door or hack into their main systems would have something else coming.

Had the existence of bald incarnations of destruction been included in those contingencies, Overwatch wouldn't be in this dilemma right now.

Though constructed with utmost resolve, the designers had taken the liberty of commissioning an area intended for downtime. Neatly arranged into rows were pool tables, with the cues hanging off to the side. In the corner stood a large bar, built with an oak wood motif.

It would all be a fairly impressive sight had it all not been covered in dust. It gathered on the bar's countertop, and on the green fur of the pool table. The wooden stools lay upside down on the counter, and the vast shelves remained completely devoid of any bottles, save for a few empty ones strewn about.

However, the same could not be said for the recreational center's gaming corner, where the theme music of "Road Rage III" resounded somewhat vehemently.

"Ugh, is that it? Give me a real challenge!" the young gamer exclaimed as she proceeded to mash the buttons on her controller. Jon Li, a muscular pugilist donning a turtleneck and a fedora, threw a rapid series of punches that left his opponent lethargic. Contrary to popular belief, violence could certainly help to flesh out the aggravation in one's soul. Probably why Hana continued to be the most animated among the agents of Overwatch.

Unfortunately, her battlecry had been made out of frustration more than enthusiasm. The Mighty Mastodon reeled back from Jon Li's barrage, but he still stood firm nonetheless. He braced his horns and cracked his knuckles together, before charging forward and ramming his head straight into Jon's stomach, dropping his health bar dangerously low.

Hana could only grunt in frustration, but she could only watch as the Mighty Mastodon jumped the moment she performed a sweep kick. As it slid across the ground, the Mighty Mastotodon followed up with a powerful dropkick, causing blood to spill out of Jon's mouth. In a dramatic turn of events, the camera shifted its focus on Jon Li as he crashed onto the ground, causing cracks to web out into several directions.

The announcer announced the winner of the match, before the words "Game Over" spelled out on the screen. Hearing the Mighty Masotodon cheering obnoxiously in the background only further prompted her to pull the plug on her PhoxBox. She then proceeded to chug an entire bottle of Mountain Dew to ease her nerves.

What a day this was turning out to be. She thought she'd have her hands full with the Omnic Titan. She even got several more Mountain Dew bottles than usual to get hyped up for the occasion. Which turned out to be a mistake, when she read the expiration dates.

Now she had nothing left to do today, except maybe finish all the Mountain Dew she bought, and a few games she found in the rec room. Feeling this unfulfilled kind of bothered her. She almost felt kind of disappointed that she never got the chance to fire off the fusion cannons on her mech, or ramming it into a bunch of omnics while furiously mashing on the self destruct button and the eject button at the same time.

Had she really become this attached to the battlefield?

She flopped backwards, her hair spilling over the bean bag. Whatever the case may be. It remained clear that she wouldn't be out doinh work on the battlefield today. Might as well pass the time with some other titles. She'd rather not think about the near death-experience she had with that bald person. Better to just let the grownups handle it.

Hana made her way towards the shelf, where a large number of titles anxiously awaited her, ranging from memorable classics to action-packed shooters. What should she play next? Vivi's Adventure? Siege Mode 3? The Adventures of Pluto Nash?

"Excuse me."

Two words. Two words were all it took to throw Hana's adrenaline systems into hyperdrive. Years upon years of Starcraft and Warhammer had built up to this very moment. Her reflexes, honed by years of gaming, already began completing sets of algorithms and patterns. Things like where her assailant stood, and the best location for her to summon her mech. The blood rushed into her brain like a river after a shattered dam.

Unfortunately, the universe decided that today would be the day her reflexes betray her. As she turned around to face her assailant, her left foot struck her other heel. She had no time to contemplate her clumsiness, however, as she suddenly found herself tumbling backwards onto the shelf. Her eyes widened in desperation and she found herself flailing her arms like an octopus entering outer space.

A resounding crack echoed throughout the recreational center as the back of her head struck the shelf, before her body slumped down onto the floor. To rub salt in the wound a tsunami of game covers came tumbling onto her, with most of them striking the newly formed bump on her head.

"Ow! Ow…" Hana immediately tended to the bump on her head, nursing it with a series of massages. Her misery soon transformed into a deep scowl as she looked up at her assailant. "Hey, what's the big idea?! Don't just sneak up on people like that, you almost gave me a… heart… att… ack."

It soon became clear who exactly she was addressing.

She had been expecting someone sneaky like Tracer to be the culprit. This wouldn't have been her first time pulling something like that. But thinking back that voice clearly belonged to a man. And the only other person that sneaky would be none other than Jack, and he himself claimed he had 'neither the time nor patience to be involved with those stupid pranks.' The guy really needed to lighten up a bit.

Of course, that wasn't the issue here. She would recognize that face anywhere. The same one in the streets of Caligo City. The same one that blasted an entire swarm of omnic drones straight into oblivion.

His orange glowing eyes burned into her soul.

At that moment her entire thought process seemed to go into hibernation mode. It took her a minute or more to understand that his arm extended out to her. She squirmed back a bit, remembering just what that hand was capable of, but the way it was outstretched like that, she couldn't help but feel he meant no harm.

She eased her nerves, though she remained somewhat hesitant as she took his hand. A warm sensation overtook her palm, not surprising considering his hand transformed into a gun that could shoot fire. And the way he heaved up her body, almost tossing her into the air, served as another reminder of his immense strength.

Upon a closer look it remained clear that most of his body consisted of a dark gray alloy. The only exception seemed to be his young-looking face, which suggested a more human element to his nature.

"You were patrolling the streets during the assault, were you not?" he suddenly wondered out loud.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I was." Hana brushed the dust off her jeans and her hoodie. "Most people know me by my alias, , but you can call me Hana." She smiled, and with a bit of confidence gave him the peace sign. Genos briefly debated confronting her on why she looked so constipated, before dismissing it entirely.

"My name is Genos." he answered.

"Genos, huh? That's… an interesting name. So, why are you here exactly?"

"I came here to search for my master. This recreational center is in close proximity of his trail of destruction, which he left in the hallway. Several other areas intersected his path, but among those, this room had the highest probability of him entering."

"...I see. Well I haven't-"

"But I also must account for the wind factor. The supersonic vacuums generated by his slaps would be enough to direct the fly off course, meaning that he may have also entered other rooms to pursue his opponent. That would decrease the likelihood that he entered this room by approximately five percent, if the number of strikes he dealt and the location of the fly during the generated vacuum are accounted for. So in other words…"

"Stop!" Hana suddenly yelled. Her eyebrow twitched erratically. "...Stop. You could have just stopped at the part where you were looking for your master and you would have gotten your point across." A few seconds passed, before a realization came to her. "...Wait. Did you say your master was chasing a fly?"

"Yes. They keep getting into our apartment. I sealed most of the entryways." Of course, said entryways included the crack under the door. Since then he set his adhesive gun to low. That way the door wouldn't be buried in glue the next time he fired it.

"...I nearly got trampled, because of a fly?"

"So it would seem." Hana flopped back down onto her bean bag. She was just about done for today. When bald-punching cosplayers chasing flies suddenly enter your life, you understand that something horrible went wrong.

"...Your master went that way. He's probably in a conference right now." Hana pointed to the other doorway, beside the empty bar.

"Very well then. I will be on my way." Genos began to head out the door, before Hana called out,

"Wait!" While she just wanted nothing more than for the day to end, she couldn't ignore the curiosity that burned inside of her. Something that tugged at her to know more about him, especially now that he took the liberty of introducing himself. And he was surprisingly gentle, when you managed to look past his destructive nature.

A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. She knew just how to approach him.

"Say, do you play video games?"

* * *

Saitama, for the second time in his life, found himself sitting on a swivel chair in a dark and mysterious room. That was one too many times he found himself in such a situation, and frankly it bothered him that such an advanced facility lacked the basic inventions known as 'lightswitches.' The only thing illuminating the room would be the massive monitor standing in front of him, which displayed some kind of logo. It kind of looked like a beetle after an episode of "MTV Cribs."

By the corridor three agents stared inquisitively into the room, as Saitama began picking his nose. They retreated from the doorway to convene for the next stage of their plan.

"Okay, it looks like he's calmed down… for the time being." Jack observed. He turned towards Winston and folded his arms. "So now what."

"Yes, Winston." Pharah, donned in her battle gear, bore an expression very similar to Jack's. "This was your idea. I don't know why you thought leaving the lights off was a good idea, but I'm trusting your judgement."

"Don't worry, I have it all… figured out." Winston adjusted his glasses, the ceiling lights reflecting off of them dramatically. "Baby steps first. Considering that our guest here remains 'in the dark',"

"Did you turn off the lights just to say tha-"

"I find it prudent that he be filled him in on all the details. Don't worry Jack, I'll go over everything." he assured with the wave of his hand, not at all giving the fuming supersoldier any attention.

"So, uh, you're going to talk to him like we discussed?" Pharah asked.

"No, of course not. That would be boring. I have something else in mind."

"...And that would be?" Winston's response came in the form of deep, slow chortles, far too deep for her comfort. The remote he gently caressed in his hand didn't ease the matters one bit.

Especially as Saitama sat obliviously in his chair, unaware of the chaos which would soon unfold.

The massive orchestra of air horns erupting into an ear shattering cacophony demonstrated what was to come of Saitama's welfare. Having already been acquainted with the moon, the hero restrained himself to prevent further vandalization. Thankfully the annoying sound effects ceased only after a few seconds.

"Sorry! Don't know how that got there." Winston's apology preceded a series of mutters. Something about a diva. "Okay… um… ah! Yes, here it is."

The screen transformed into a bright white, with the Overwatch logo animating itself in the center. An orchestra of trombones and trumpets played what he assumed to be their theme song, a much more pleasant sound compared to the previous sound effects. Rhythmically the instruments accelerated and decelerated, alternating between each to produce a harmonious set of sounds.

Then a loud, deep voice filled the dark room with a sense of authority. On the screen there stood a wrinkly penguin, wearing some kind of turtleneck and a creepy smile.

The oblivious Saitama sat there scratching his neck. Winston rubbed his hands together, producing the sound of two cinder blocks being grinded together. Pharah and Jack looked into the room, a look of confusion and worry plastered onto their faces.

Something told them they wouldn't like what was going to happen next.

* * *

"Ha! Take that! Aaaaaand that!" Hana's excited battlecries echoed rather wildly throughout the recreational center. For Genos' part, he found her cheers rather complacent, but nonetheless it did not break his resolve. Though he really wondered whether she had jump up and down on the beanbag like that.

On his side of the screen fought the Mighty Mastodon, which appeared to be some kind of elephant-human hybrid. Despite its intimidating appearance, it did a poor job of repelling his opponent. Several punches to the face reminded him of his limited success.

From his previous experience in video games, especially concerning those of the fighting genre, he was fairly certain that one must press as many buttons on the controller as fast as possible. He found that the best way to accomplish this was to hold the controller in one hand, then mash the buttons as fast as possible using his other hand. Hence why his fingers turn into a rapid blur across the buttons. Hana, having observed this throughout the match, determined he must have made an excellent typist.

Unfortunately, here in the ring, that technique served him very little. Though it certainly caught Hana off guard at the beginning, she eventually noticed the obvious flaw in his fight pattern. That there wasn't really a fight pattern to begin with. Aside from a few stray kicks and punches, those were all that he threw at her.

Hana stuck out her tongue in concentration as she maneuvered Jon Li around the Mastodon's movements, dominating him with a quick series of punches or rapid kicks, whenever he left himself wide open. When the opportunity came she would attack with an aerial kick, since blocking didn't seem to be in Genos' dictionary. The Mighty Mastodon fumbled backwards, his arms flailing as he struggled to keep his balance.

Genos, who continued to play from sheer experience, concluded he simply wasn't pressing fast enough.

It reached the point where it seemed as though he were pressing every single button on the controller at the same time. Not that this really helped him. The button mashing had become so intense that the Mighty Mastodon didn't respond. At all. Leaving him wide open for Jon Li's finishing combo; a massive uppercut with his right fist, followed by a roundhouse kick midair. The screen paused as Jon Li's foot met the Mastodon's face, the sound of his skull shattering making it clear who won this bout.

The round finished with the Mighty Mastodon crashing headfirst into the pavement, and skidding straight into a building, followed by the words, 'You're Winner' being spelled out in gold. Hana, for her part, concluded the match with a loud cheer and a dance mimicking the one Jon Li was doing on screen.

"Woo hoo! Three out of three!" Hana plopped down on the massive bean bag, and looked down at Genos. "...You're really not good at this are you? I thought you said you played fighting games before?"

"Only once." he replied. "My master and I were doing it in order to escape slave labor."

"...What."

"I wasn't very good at it, sadly. And it seems I haven't improved that much either." Genos lifted the controller up to Hana. Where the buttons used to be, there instead were several holes shooting straight through the device. Hana could see the shattered circuitry inside, where numerous wires poked out.

To be fair, Hana was surprised it even lasted this long.

"...Eh, that's alright. There are plenty of controllers in the back anyway." She pointed to the cube-shaped bucket, where controllers practically spilled out onto the ground.

Genos turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "Why would you need so many controllers?"

Hana pursed her lips. "Well, I asked Winston about it. Apparently this place is pretty old. This place was pretty popular, or so I've heard. And people in this corner would place bets on who was the better Road Rager. I guess that's why so many of these games are classic." Hana gestured a finger toward the large shelf to the right.

"They must have really enjoyed playing video games." Genos observed.

"Yeah. I never got to see it myself, but Reinhardt was. The guy's a really good storyteller, I'm not gonna lie." She never mentioned the way Reinhardt looked as he told his tale. The man could certainly be nostalgic at times. "You should really try out some of these other games. Some of these classics are a hit, I tell you."

"Perhaps it is for the best if I don't. As I clearly demonstrated I am not suited for this type of activity." he explained, gesturing to the shattered controller dangling in his hands.

"Gee, you really haven't had much experience with video games, have you?" Hana observed, taking on a tone of pity. "Not even when you were young?"

Genos thought to himself for a moment. "I do remember one time. My mom was visiting a friend's house, and she brought me with her. I met her friend's cousin, and she let me play on her NES. After that I visited her regularly, to play games together."

"An NES? Those still exist?" Hana scoffed, then abandoned her expression when she witnessed the stiffness in Genos' eyes.

He didn't know why he suddenly remembered that. Or why he suddenly decided to say it out loud. As far as he remembered he could only recall being happy with his family.

Still, it was nice knowing he shared some good times with other people. Even though he wouldn't be seeing them again.

"...Sorry." she mumbled.

"What for?" Genos asked, startling Hana. It occurred to her that his hearing was probably enhanced.

She didn't know the story behind Genos the Cyborg, but something told her it would be best for it to stay that way.

"Well, it's just… nevermind." Hana looked down longingly at her controller. Genos looked at her briefly, before turning his attention to the television screen, where Jon Li continued doing dancing idly.

"Best out of five?" Hana looked up to see Genos offering a new controller from the bucket.

"Really?" she beamed.

"I might as well improve myself."

Hana grinned. For the next few hours, the sounds of combat echoed throughout the hallways. Eventually they moved onto other titles, where less button mashing could take place.

* * *

News of the Titan's defeat did not remain static. It would turn out to be the source of a massive ripple that affected regions across the globe.

For one such person, such an opportunity could not go unused.

Rotten wood remained scattered across the white fields, reeking of smoke and overflowing with moss. The despairingly massive piles of rubble gave no peace to the metallic corpses rusting endlessly across the once peaceful town.

They were said to be allies of humankind. Automatons invented for the purpose of benefitting their human counterparts. And like so many others, they turned on them. Welding torches were replaced with machine guns. Caravan wheels became the harbingers of tank treads. The town of Kageyama no longer knew peace but war.

That war ravaged the lands, and permanently changed the once beautiful landscape into a desolate wasteland that not even the most extreme of emos could stand to look at. The joyous, green fields once lush with multitudes of flowers no longer existed, instead replaced by the cold, lifeless dirt, complete with dead trees and gigantic scraps of metal which lay partially buried into the earth. It all served as a reminder that the dream of peace between omnics and humans would escalate to nothing more than that; a dream.

In others words, the perfect hiding spot from the persistent Russian police.

A single, unassuming hatch lay hidden among the barren fields, guarded by the massive mountains of scrap metal which once constituted several Omnic Mammoth Tanks. Numerous bullet markings and black char stained the pristine metal, reminiscing of a battle long lost and forgotten.

Just below there was a set of ladders, extending more than twenty feet. Only the ravages of time seemed to have any effect on them, but they remained rather functional nonetheless. It led straight into a dark hallway, its systems powered down a long time ago. This resulted in the corridors remaining a pitch black hue.

At the end of the darkness glowed several violet lights. These lights took the form of a small screen, displaying several bits and pieces of information, which were either relocated or discarded entirely.

Two purple irises observed the monitors very carefully, as the Omnic Titan's demise rewinded and replayed several times. She made extra sure to look over every nook and cranny. Her tenacious examinations included a seemingly harmless dot, which approached the Omnic Titan at considerable speeds. To think a pixel would be capable of what it would within the next few seconds. For about the 56th time the Titan exploded, the sheer force causing the camera lense to partially shatter.

Just what did Overwatch build?

Whatever it was, she couldn't make much with this footage. The hacker's countenance morphed into a deep scowl. It was right there on the screen, as though it were taunting her. Such a powerful piece of ordnance, and somehow it remained miniscule enough to escape her sight.

Nothing escapes her sight.

But even after numerous investigations, scrounging the media, and even breaking into top secret terminals for any files for top secret prototype weapons, she garnered literally nothing. Just the simple act of not knowing drove the proud hacker straight into a pit of despair. She had tackled some intimidating challenges before, but none that left her as hollow as this. She felt as though her heart had been ripped out.

Her extended facial contortions caused a steady stream of sweat to dribble down onto the floor.

She took a few deep breaths, and cracked her knuckles. There had to be some kind of angle. Some kind of approach that she had overlooked. And she would find it.

Obviously the camera feed was insufficient. Still, taking into account the destruction of several power lines, any camera capturing decent footage had been a miracle in of itself. But it just wasn't enough. She needed something else to go on.

At one point, she had the opportunity to glance over the schematics of the Omnic Titan. It possessed a plethora of weapons, as well as several utilities. Utilities which included repair drones and assault drones. Drones…

Yes, if she recalled correctly these were deployed to seek out specific targets. They had a sub-schematic, one that clearly contained details of some kind of security camera. Unfortunately, the news report had stated that most if not all had been incinerated.

Already her hands got to working, rapidly pressing different buttons and keys, accessing different streams of data and organizing them onto the monitor. Her probing algorithm came across several computers, many of which were currently accessing different media outlets regarding the massive robotic head sitting in the middle of Caligo City.

Although not much could be salvaged from the drones themselves, the schematic contained details of their hard drives. In order to save space, the flight patterns had been coded directly into the mainframe of the Omnic Titan. The probing algorithm flashed a bright pink. Looks like she stumbled across something.

It seemed, despite its destruction, the Titan's mainframe remained very much intact.

Several feeds of an bird's eye view of the city popped up onto the monitors, as a small grin formed on the hacker's face.

Since the feed didn't produce any audio, she mentally produced the sounds of a massive explosion as the camera feeds simultaneously overflowed with fire, before turning into static. She discarded the feeds and summoned several more, with the same result.

After twenty minutes of digging, she noticed something interesting. She picked out the interesting feed and expanded it before rewinding it. The drone passed over the city, but her eye caught something just before fire swarmed the camera lense. She rewinded it by a few seconds, and although the figure came out somewhat blurred, a silhouette stood on the streets, with his arms outstretched.

She enhanced the view, to discover that it was not just a man. It was curious how so much metal constituted his body. What she found even more curious was the way his arm glowed and expanded like that.

A wicked grin overtook her face as she locked gazes with the cyborg. Just the sheer thrill of the hunt caused something primal to well up inside of her.

The chase was on.


	4. Zero Chill

The skies glowed a gentle blue, and only a few clouds roamed the sky that day. And though much of the city remained in shambles, most seemed to forget the chaos that occurred just the day before, and instead shifted their focus to the reconstruction of their beloved city.

Jackhammers plowed through rubble, tearing it apart into smaller chunks. Excavators across the city revved up, clearing the streets in an orderly fashion. The city was much noisier than usual, with construction workers getting their power tools up and running. One worker looked ahead of him, observing the char spreading across several blocks. Then he turned in the other direction and strolled away. Better for someone else to report this to the brass.

The task to restore order in the Caligo City would certainly prove to be a daunting one. It was a belief shared by many of its residents, but despite knowing this they pushed forward, intent on restoring the city to its former glory.

Of course, they all remained unaware of the greater task, which had been hastily shoved into the hands of Overwatch.

The Mk. 3 Overjet. Designed to reach international locations with ease. It was a feat of engineering that only Overwatch had access to.

Several sonic booms above the city of Caligo served as the Overjet's only hint of existence. The people below looked up to the sky in curiosity, before returning to their business.

By the time Genos looked out of the window, Caligo City was already replaced by the vast ocean. As he leaned on the glass, Genos slid his hand across the seamless metal frame. The amount of detail put into this vehicle was immense. The only other person who had this much technological expertise was Dr. Kuseno.

"Like it?" she asked. Compared to before, she donned her regular clothing. Assuming that a blue skintight bodysuit could be considered 'normal clothing' according to Hana. "Torbjorn built it himself. Even put his name on it."

"I see." Genos looked to his left, where his master sat on a cushioned seat, staring down at the blue carpet. Against all logic his blank stare seemed to be even blanker than usual. Something seemed to have occurred while they were separated.

He turned towards Hana, and wordlessly jabbed his finger at Saitama. Hana's smile contorted into an uncomfortable cringe. "Yeah… about that… Winston introduced him to our uh… recruitment program special."

"Recruitment… program… special…?" What did that even mean?

"It's uh… something Tracer told me about a while back. It's a children's program Winston made to boost our reputation and gain potential recruits in the future."

"...And?"

"And, uh… well, let's just say there's a reason they cancelled it halfway through the first episode. Hell, I couldn't even get through the first 45 seconds." She shuddered visibly at the abhorrent memories. Genos blinked several times.

"...Is that why you left Winston behind?" Hana nodded slowly. Master Saitama seemed to have interesting experiences with gorillas.

Genos turned turned away from the window, gazing at the rather spacey hallway to his right. For an airborne vehicle to flaunt extraordinary speeds yet encompass this much size signaled mastery of the engineering arts.

At the very end of the dim hallway was a blue-tinted metal door with white strips. Genos gave it a sharp glare.

 _He strolled the hallways of the Watchpoint, observing the level of quality and detail put into every inch of this base. The building architect must have been an extremely talented man. He stopped from the next door down, his augmented hearing picking up some arguing coming from inside. Whatever it was it probably didn't concern him._

" _I'll have him report to the Committee. Today." Genos turned back towards the door, and glowered. He leaned against the adjacent wall and slid closer._

" _-ponsible for that incident." There was a pause. He was most likely talking on the phone._

" _Yeah. We always liked to go on about how fragile the balance was between the leading powers, especially when taking groups like Talon into consideration. And Overwatch served as a critical factor in disrupting that balance. But I know now more than ever that I was just lying to myself." There was another pause. This time it was longer._

" _The world's a dangerous place. And sometimes peace comes at a cost. But the day's come that we remind the world it doesn't have to be that way. I just didn't think it would come so soon."_

" _...Alright. Good." His auditory sensors picked up a short beep. It seemed the transmission ended._

 _The door slid open, with Jack walking outside. He stopped when he spotted Genos leaning in the hallway._

" _...You heard?" Jack asked. Genos' piercing gaze answered that for him. Jack let out a sigh._

" _Head to the docking bay three. We're boarding for New York as soon as possible. I'll explain on the way there." Jack slowly walked down the hallway, without sparing a glance. "And don't tell your master, either."_

As Genos scrutinized the blue door, he decided it was time for him to get some answers. He gazed back toward his master sympathetically, before heading into the corridor.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To ask a few questions. Wait here." he ordered. Genos passed through the hallway, past all the other doors, stopping once he stood in front of the door. There was a lot of yelling coming through the other side, though much of it was muffled by the door. Genos waited several seconds for the arguing to dissipate, but eventually his patience thinned.

The blue door slid open automatically as he approached it, and he was immediately bombarded with the piercing yells of two individuals in particular. Frankly he was surprised the door managed to muffle it at all.

Reinhardt stood at one end of the interactive table situated in the center of the room, directly opposite Pharah and Jack who yelled and pointed fingers at each other. It seemed as though Reinhardt was attempting to bring tranquility to the situation, but his pleas went abruptly ignored. Genos took his place beside him, capturing the larger man's attention.

"How long has it been like this?" asked Genos, having to glance up to match gazes with Reinhardt.

"Uh, for a while actually." he awkwardly answered back. He took a deep breath. "Didn't actually catch what started it though." Genos stared at the bickering duo. He tried waiting for the argument to reach some conclusion, but once again his patience reached its limit. Holding his hand to his mouth, he cleared his throat.

Both of them stopped yelling at each other, caught completely off-guard by the cyborg's presence. Slowly, they situated each other a considerable distance across the circular table.

"Great! So, uh, can we start the meeting?" Reinhardt's jovial persona went underappreciated, but they all silently agreed to his statement. Jack tapped the interface twice, and the entire surface glowed a bright blue. Several three-dimensional displays immediately popped up, the diagram of Caligo City's current condition taking up the most space.

Jack's crimson visor met Genos' orange glare. "You're already aware of this, but I got a call from the United Nations Headquarters. It's about yesterday's events."

"Still don't get why we have to attend a lousy Committee." complained Reinhardt. He was never one for the political world. "Titan's been toppled, day's been saved. But they couldn't leave it at that, now could they?"

"Well, it IS the UN." Pharah spared a glance toward the hefty man. "This isn't something they can just overlook. I hope you can understand that Genos."

"I understand. The citizens here are not accustomed to the magnitude of power my master displays."

"And that brings us to the topic at hand." Jack waved his hand over the table's interface, and a chart popped up. "As you can see here, public approval for Overwatch has skyrocketed in the last several hours, since the incident was resolved." He pointed to the line transfixed on the graph, focusing on the area where it suddenly shot straight up.

"Ha…! It's a new record, actually." Reinhardt pointed out, with a hearty grin. "Thanks for that, by the way." He gave Genos a friendly pat on the back, accidentally generating a few sparks as metal collided against metal. No one seemed to be in a good enough mood to give an actual reaction.

"It's still bothers me though." They turned their attention to Pharah, who leaned her elbows on the table. "I thought most of the Titan Omnics were decommissioned and dismantled, especially after the Boklovo disaster. If Talon managed access to one…"

"Then there's a chance that they have more." Jack finished. "No doubt there are some strings being pulled. Something that large isn't easy to conceal. Even harder to transport covertly."

"Talon's only gotten stronger since their debut." Pharah observed. "Honestly, I'm not sure Overwatch is fit to deal with them at the moment."

"We'll look into that later. Right now…" He turned to Genos, whose gaze intensified as they met Jack's once again. "...There's the UN we have to deal with."

"Yeah. You mentioned you had some kind of plan." said Reinhardt. "You were pretty vague about it too. It kind of makes me worried, honestly."

"Well it should. I've been informed of several allegations, regarding our performance in repelling the Omnic threat in Caligo, as well as the unprecedented interference of our two 'guest's.'" All eyes were on Genos, Reinhardt especially.

"Allegations?" Reinhardt's eyes widened with disbelief. "What kind of 'allegations?'" he almost yelled across the table.

"Most have to do with collateral, but, basically, they think Overwatch, in violation of the Non-Proliferation Treaty, is in illegal possession of some kind of superweapon. They want most if not all active members of Overwatch to report to the Committee regarding this matter."

"What! But that's nonsense!" Reinhardt contended, as he leaned on the table.

"True. Thinking about the situation we're in, we technically don't possess a superweapon, and we technically we didn't orchestrate yesterday's happenings."

"And I garner that the Committee has no evidence backing their claim regardless." observed Genos. "Yet you didn't press on that fact during yesterday's conversation. Is there a reason for that?"

Reinhardt looked at Genos. "Huh?" What conversation?"

"If it were that simple, then I definitely would have just gone with that approach. However…" Jack tapped the interface several times, bringing up various digital articles, all of which contained flamboyant titles like 'Overwatch obliterates Titan in a Single Blow!', or 'Omnic Threat: Conquered by Overwatch!' Reinhardt's eyes darted between them in confusion. "As you can see, the media has already pinned us as the perpetrators of this event. And whatever the mass media says, goes."

Everyone silently agreed on that point. Reinhardt raised his hand, but Jack stopped him.

"I know what you're thinking Reinhardt, but revealing the media's exploits will work against us."

"How so?" he asked.

"Events of significantly lower magnitude would have been less damaging. But an event as big as this will have no doubt reached the corners of the world by now. So we're treading on thin ice. If we aren't careful about how we answer to the Committee, then Overwatch's biggest achievement will turn into its biggest scam."

"We could try to convince the Committee to remain silent about the situation." suggested Pharah.

"That's assuming the Committee would be willing to cooperate with us. And do keep in mind that not all of its members are supportive of Overwatch's reestablishment."

"So what are we supposed to do then, if we're not allowed to tell the truth?" asked Reinhardt.

"I didn't say we're not allowed to tell the truth. We just need to leave out part of it." Reinhardt tilted his head in confusion.

"I… don't follow."

"Basically, I am to be declared to be solely responsible for the incident regarding the Omnic Titan, as an unofficial member of Overwatch." Genos clarified for him. Reinhardt gazed at him in bewilderment. "Jack told me in the docking bay. Not that I actually agreed to it."

"But what would that even accomplish?"

"For starters, it would preserve the 'truth' that Overwatch was responsible for saving Caligo City. But the Non-Proliferation Treaty doesn't account for cyborgs, so they can't hit us with any transgressions regarding it." Pharah explained, in a rather bitter tone. Reinhardt began to understand what their previous argument was about. Then he glanced down at Genos.

"One thing's kind of bothering me though. You said that he and he alone would be declared responsible for this event. But we know his friend- Saitama, was it? We know he was involved too, so why isn't he standing here listening to all this?"

Pharah let out a sigh. "It's because whether or not he should get involved is up to him. There was never a point in getting him involved since their existence is still a secret. Most of the power lines in Caligo City were destroyed, after all."

"I still haven't agreed to this 'plan' of yours." Genos stated firmly. Pharah swallowed the lump in her throat, and replied,

"As much as I hate to say it, our hand's been forced." Pharah couldn't bring herself to look Genos in the eye.

"Don't worry. It'll work out." Reinhardt did his best to be reassuring, resting his hand on his shoulders, only to find that he was already bent on leaving the room.

Genos glanced behind him, almost running into who stood right at the doorway.

"Ah!" she screamed. "Um, I was just uh…" But Genos simply walked past her without saying a word. stared at his back for a few seconds, and looked back into the corridor.

"Eavesdropping as usual, I see." ignored Jack's admonishments, and approached the table. She leaned on the interface, beside Reinhardt where Genos was standing.

"...Are we really going to do this?" she asked. Pharah looked her in the eye solemnly.

"I'm not exactly happy about it either, but the Committee's going to come down on us hard if we don't do something about it. And then there's the media to top it all off."

"I still don't think it's a good idea to drag them into this." Reinhardt crossed his arms. gave him a weak smile. At least one person agreed with her on this.

"Maybe it isn't But it's already set in motion. " Jack stated firmly. Reinhardt, instead of arguing, decided he heard enough and left, with following suit. She gave them one last cursory glance before the door shut behind them.

Jack stared at the door. Overwatch was on the line, and trust was one of the last prices he'd be willing to pay to get it back. With a gamble like this he hoped to regain at least one of them in the end.

He turned to Pharah. "...Thanks back there."

"One of these days one of your crazy plans is gonna get us all killed." Her voice took on a sterner tone, before it lightened. "But I really hope you know what you're doing Jack." He couldn't think of a good way to reply, so he settled with a simple nod.

"I've already P.M.'d the other agents. With luck most of them will rendezvous at the designated coordinates." He tapped the bottom of the interface, revealing the profiles of the currently active Overwatch agents. Of all of them, three in particular glowed red.

He clicked the profile with a picture of a woman wearing orange goggles, and smiling brightly. Under the photo the name 'Lena Oxton' was spelled in bright white letters.

Beside the message board, the inbox remained empty.

"Still nothing from Tracer?" asked Pharah.

"Still nothing." Jack sighed as he closed the profile. "Last I contacted her, she was handling things at Watchpoint: Gelus."

"Gelus? An eco-Watchpoint?"

"Yes. She's currently working with Mei and Hanzo to re-establish the perimeter. It was Mei's idea, after all." Jack gazed at the floor emptily. He tugged a piece of paper in his pocket, holding it in place before stuffing it back in. Then he began to mutter under his breath. "Talk to me Oxton… What's happening up there?"

* * *

Her breath was rigid, and broke the silence surrounding the darkness. Her hand trembled, and the words she scribbled down became crude and messy. Sweat dropped down from her forehead, staining the lined paper.

"Day 372. Our transmitter's been active for several weeks now. But we still haven't gotten any signal. We need to try and preserve the battery as much as possible, but our chances of rescue will lower if try that." She swallowed the hot air as she wrote. It tasted disgusting.

"Despite our attempts to be conservative, supplies have been dwindling rather fast, especially with the number of people in our group. One of them may be planning a mutiny, but I've got my eye on him just in case it'll come to that. At least it means one less mouth to feed. And if it really gets desperate, then we may have to… well, it's better if you don't hear me say it."

"I tried going out to hunt for food, but there's nothing to hunt in this barren wasteland. I may have expended precious stamina over nothing, and now I feel colder than ever. I feel so empty… Everything feels so woozy…"

"One of the others started to go crazy. Tied her up to try and give her some time to cool down. Heh. Cool down. I'm funny. I'm also very hungry at the moment." She paused, her pen stuck on the last word. "This may very well be the end of good ol' Lena Oxton, Lieutenant of the Third Battalion, Supreme Athlete and Legendary Monster Hunter. If, by any chance, someone were to come across this journal, please, go to the enclosed address. Go there, and tell Emily that I-"

Before she could copy down her latest thought, all eight of her comforters came flinging off of her. She groaned as she slowly rolled on her back to stare at Hanzo in peculiar clothing. She got a laugh or two out of seeing Hanzo in orange pajamas for the first fifteen minutes or so, but his uptight manner managed to overcome it in the end.

"I knew you weren't sleeping." he scowled. He gazed at the pink multi-colored pen in Tracer's hands, then toward the journal on the futon she was lying on. His scowl deepened. "Has your boredom really driven you this far?"

"Oh come on, my tablet died!" she pointed to the Galaxy sitting at the far end of the room, beside a large black monitor. "What did you expect?"

"Well for starters, maybe you shouldn't have wasted the entire battery on Netflix." Tracer bit her tongue. She hadn't exactly been in the best of moods, getting holed up inside the Watchpoint's main control room. It only worsened when her 'Vampire Diaries' session came to an abrupt end, thanks to the limitations of technology. "Come on. It's only been six hours. Go eat something."

"Ugh. Fine." She was hungry, after all. And at this point she welcomed anything that would pass the time. In a blue flash she blinked toward the small mountain of ramen noodle cups, and blinked a second time toward the portable oven on the floor.

She grabbed the kettle beside it, and placed it on top before turning the oven on. She blinked a third time to grab a bottle of Mountain Dew from the small pail made of ice, courtesy of Mei. Then she downed the whole thing in ten seconds, traveling back in time just to down it again. The sweet, stinging taste improved her mood somewhat, although she still had no idea what she was supposed to do for the rest of the time she was stuck here.

"You know, all this sodium going to catch up to me sooner or later." Tracer commented as she stared at the empty green bottle longingly.

"Tell that to Mei. She was the one who raided the kitchen before we got here." Hanzo sat in the center of the control room, sitting in a meditative pose.

"What's she doing by the way?" Tracer glanced at the massive wall of ice isolating them from the rest of the base. In front of it stood Mei, who held a brush in one hand and a small pick in the other.

"Supposedly 'checking on the perimeter.'" The stoic archer did not break his meditative pose. Tracer wondered what he meant by 'supposedly', before turning back to the wall to discover Morgan Freeman's perfect face staring back at her. The attention to detail included every hair of his beard, which Mei gently placed onto him after carefully crafting it.

Tracer intelligently decided not to ask about it.

She stared back at the kettle on the small stove. As it continued to spew fire, she unconsciously began to tap her foot impatiently.

"Try some breathing exercises. It may put you at ease." Tracer stared at Hanzo for a few seconds, before taking a deep breath. Then she released it, as though she were trying to imitate a drunk wyvern.

"...Nope. Not working." Hanzo's eyebrows furrowed, and the number of creases on his forehead multiplied.

"You're impossible." A bit of malice came with his words. "Can you at least make yourself useful and check on the transmitter?" Tracer blinked away into another corridor, near to where several monitors were situated. Then she immediately blinked back. "...Well?"

"Nothing. As usual." Tracer sighed and slumped onto the floor, with her legs crossed. "It really makes you wonder if they're really coming or not."

"They're coming. Just have some patience."

"Well what about Talon? They're probably still waiting outside that barrier, for all we know."

"It's impossible to inform them of the situation at this stage in time." Hanzo opened one eye to look at Tracer. "They'll just have to deal with that when the time comes. But we need to be prepared to make our move too. The moment they catch us off guard is the moment we lose."

"Yeah…" Tracer's eyes went to the floor, and toward the wall of ice once again. "Still, it's kind of strange, don't you think?"

"What is?"

"Do you really think it's a coincidence they attacked this Watchpoint while we were here? After all, the eco-Watchpoints were cleared out decades ago, and they've been out of operation ever since. What do you think their goal is?"

"Assuming they knew about our location beforehand, it's not surprising for them to launch a surprise attack." Hanzo closed his eyes, deep in thought. "Still, to send such an overwhelming amount of forces to such an isolate location… What exactly are they planning?"

"Hmmm… Beats me." Tracer shrugged. "Guess we'll just have to hold the fort until then, huh?"

"So it would seem." As Hanzo returned to his meditating, a certain whistling caught Tracer's attention.

"Oh! Water's ready." She peeled the lid off her ramen noodle cup, and lifted the kettle from the stove. Then she poured the boiling water in. The aroma of ramen noodle cups made her day somewhat worthwhile.

Hanzo turned his head slightly to witness Tracer slurping the noodles, far too quickly for it to cool down. "Careful, it's hot-" He raised his hand as a means of warning, but it was far too late. Tracer immediately did a spit-take, sending the clump of noodles and soup soaring across the room like an unbound missile.

It darted past Mei, just barely missing her coat as she turned towards her box of sculpting tools. An audible squelching sound immediately destroyed the peaceful silence and replaced it with unfounded tension as the ramen noodle missile splatted directly onto the glorious sculpture of Morgan Freeman's face. Mei's entire body suddenly froze at the sound.

She slowly turned back to her sculpture to find steam drifting off of Morgan Freeman's facial features, as the hot substance dissolved and disfigured them in a matter of seconds. Before long what used to be a wonderful masterpiece transformed into the face of Mark Fischbach after willingly shoving his face into a cotton candy maker designed to operate at speeds topping mach 10.

Sweat dripped off Hanzo's face, while it poured out of Tracer, the former slowly reaching for his bow. For the next minute or so Mei continued to watch her masterpiece self-destruct. Then, by force of will alone, her entire body rotated 180°. Not one muscle moved.

Most disturbing of all, however, was how her grin seemed to be plastered on her face, lacking any sense of genuinity at all.

The room, once full of tranquility and peace, suddenly erupted into unfounded chaos the moment Mei's eyes began glowing an eerie red.


	5. Acceleration

As always, the crowded streets of New York bustled with activity. People pushed past each other in a hurry to get to the nearest taxi as quickly as possible, and often times there would be the occasional pedestrian making a mad dash across the street just as the counter hit zero. Needless to say, these people were far too busy to pay any real attention to the mass of metal hovering across the city. Not that they would possess any real motivation to do so.

The metal mass landed on top of a particularly tall building, where the silver and yellow Overwatch logo had been hastily painted onto a landing platform. Soon after, three figures in particular descended from the aircraft and observed the mess of people below.

Hana zipped up her hoodie and donned a pair of sunglasses. Her flashy aquamarine jumpsuit had been concealed under a layer of casual clothing, which consisted of a plain gray sweater and some jogging pants, both of which felt unusually baggy. "Feel like I'm an undercover agent." she playfully noted.

"New York is pretty active, even during the night. That isn't always the case, but I'd rather not run the risk of getting mobbed. We're already in deep water as it is." Pharah pointed out. She had traded her battlesuit for a leather jacket and a pair of beige jeans. Though to be frank, she did feel rather naked without her Raptora Armor. For the time being, however, she would have to embrace her true identity.

"Eugh. Yeah. I get where you're coming from." Hana visibly shuddered. Her time as a professional gamer had not gone unforgotten. Especially that one time she got squished in a hallway by her fans, prompting the police to get involved. Apparently the masses became relentless when it came to the word 'disclosure'.

She turned towards Genos. Currently the cyborg leaned over the edge, his curiosity well sated by the view of the city below. His orange irises drifted towards the multitude of stories forming the structure beneath the landing pad.

"This is certainly an interesting place to park aircraft." he observed. The only other organization he knew to have this much clearance was the Hero Association, and so far he hadn't received any word from them. "Is it really necessary?"

"It's for confidentiality." answered a fourth figure as he descended from the cockpit. His attire consisted of a jet black suit and tie, complete with a small device hung from his earlobe, probably a communicator of sorts. It was a huge contrast to the jacket blazing the number '76', its crimson glare being matched only by his visor. "You'd be surprised at how cunning the media can be someti- what?"

The look he currently received from Hana told him she discovered the Earth was, in fact, a sphere, and not a pyramid.

Slowly the shocked girl raised a finger toward his unmasked face. "...You looked a lot different in those posters."

Pharah gave Jack a weird look. "You never bothered to show her until now?"

"Again. Confidentiality." explained Jack, as he donned a pair of sunglasses, so that only 80% of the glaring scar on his face could be seen. "We're only going incognito so we don't draw too much attention. Finding a way past the Committee is the real issue we're trying to deal with. Still, ignore any onlookers, or anyone trying to sell you something."

"Alright, dad." Hana rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Didn't you say the meeting was at, like, two o' clock? We've still got noon to kill."

"We're not taking any chances here. I thought it'd be good if we had time to formulate a good strategy." Jack continued.

"It might have been better to bring Winston, then. He's very optimistic, even in political situations." suggested Pharah.

"On the contrary, I'm afraid his joviality could very well backfire on us during the meeting." Jack had the steel to reaffirm him counterargument. "Besides, he still needs time to reflect on himself after… that."

Everyone silently agreed on that part.

"And my role?" Genos wondered out loud. Briefly he matched Jack's stoic glare, now susceptible without his red visor.

"How much experience do you have in politics?"

"Little to none." the cyborg immediately replied. "I spent much time honing my skills in combat. At most I can answer any question I am asked to the best of my ability."

"Then that's what you'll do. Just let us handle the part about yesterday's events." replied Jack.

"Yeah. Be prepared to bail if they don't buy our bluff."

"Hana."

"I know, I know, jeez. It's so tense up in here. Don't blame me if I'm trying to ease it up a little." pouted Hana, as she mockingly raised her palms in the air.

"If I had to be honest, it wouldn't hurt for us to have a breather. All this talk about politics is kind of exhausting." Pharah's tone did sound rather exasperated. Not surprising, since the call for them to fly off to New York came rather suddenly and unexpectedly. And everyone had been especially exhausted after battling a fifty-foot mech.

"So… I was wondering." Jack took a deep breath, while Pharah internally braced herself for the worst. From their past experiences, they had long come to the realization that hearing those words from Hana generally meant something bad. "What! What is up with you guys?" Their behavior apparently hadn't gone unnoticed by the rambunctious mech pilot.

"Just spit it out." said Jack bitterly. Hana nonchalantly directed her finger towards Genos, particularly at his attire.

"Nothing, just thought it'd be a good idea to get that out of the way." she explained. Genos looked down at his collar shirt, and looked back towards her, with a dispassionate expression.

"What's wrong with what I wear?" asked the confused cyborg.

"Well, in case you haven't heard earlier, we are trying to go 'incognito'. You know what that means, right?"

"Yes." Genos replied sardonically.

"Well, you're going to need to do a better job than that." Hana was, of course, referring to the lack of sleeves on Genos' arms. Clearly he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was a cyborg. "Do you have a secret grudge against sleeves or something?"

"No. They simply interfere with my incinerators." To demonstrate, Genos unfolded his incinerators, the metal expanding and releasing a bright orange hue, drawing a few 'oohs' from the young Hana. Which were soon replaced by yelps of pain when she attempted to touch the heated metal with her bare hands.

Pharah let out another sigh at the sight of Hana running in circles and fanning her hand. "Well, either way, it's probably better if you cover up with something. Like I said, we can't risk drawing attention. Why don't you two head to a clothing department while there's still time?"

Genos thought about it for a moment. Granted, he did stand out, and the chances they could just pass him off as another one of those omnics were slim at best. And even then, the constant sleeve ripping demanded an abundance of clothes. May as well stock up while he had the chance.

Besides, how bad could it be?

"Very well then. Let's go, Hana." he beckoned.

"Ugh. Yeah, sure, just warn me next time you do that, will you?" whined Hana as they both made their way towards the elevator shaft. Jack gave Genos one last glance before he disappeared behind the elevator doors, and took a deep breath.

"We're supposed to be a peacekeeping organization. Revived heroes of Overwatch. And somehow in the span of one night we get thrown into this bald-punching collateral mess of a problem." he muttered somewhat loudly under his breath. "When did things become so weirdly complicated, Pharah?"

Pharah couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Maybe it was always like that." And in an instant, she resumed a more grim tone. "Speaking of which, we should probably get him out here. Hopefully he's done recovering from that… incident, by now. Where's Reinhardt by the way?"

"Still getting his armor off, I think. I should probably remind him what to say- hey Reinhardt!" he called out towards the jet.

Silence. Jack gave Pharah a curious glance.

"...Reinhardt?"

* * *

"Two ham croissants, please." Reinhardt held up two fingers. Normally, the thought of even trying to approach the market district of New York behind Jack's back would be appalling. That was before he learned of the existence of Titan-punching bald people. And the way he looked back on the jet, it seemed he wasn't the only one who needed to take his mind off things. Especially with all this talk of politics and conferences.

The clerk wrapped the heated croissants, and handed them to Reinhardt, who gave his thanks. He handed one to his cape-wearing comrade, who gratefully accepted free meal. Even if the market district did prove to be somewhat hectic and fast paced, the armorless knight and the bald superhero managed to find solace in it. Maybe it was the vibe being given off by the hard workers, but personally Reinhardt liked to believe it was one of the few excitements one could find in peace.

"Thanks for paying." said Saitama, as he nibbled his food.

"Vo froflem." Reinhardt replied with a mouth full of croissant. This resulted in him unintentionally spraying a cluster of crumbs onto an unsuspecting customer's hair. Both Reinhardt and Saitama simultaneously did a 90° turn, before she could notice. "Least I could do since you brought me all the way here."

"Yeah. Some of these prices are pretty high though. Might have been better to just wait for a discount." said Saitama, who squinted at a pair of banana bunches, priced at fifteen dollars, each.

"Don't worry. We get a lot of funding from our patents. Plus I started a page recently. Haven't gotten any patrons yet, but, well, you get the point." Reinhardt paused. He briefly considered informing Saitama about the situation revolving around Genos. Currently he remained largely unaware, but he couldn't ignore the pang of guilt he felt for having to stoop to this. Yes, he did want to keep Overwatch on its legs, but…

"I didn't know this place had flying cars." The proverbial emergency brake on Reinhardt's train of thought had been violently yanked. "I was kind of wondering why those tires were angled so weirdly."

The knight of Overwatch then realized the two of them arrived at the street corner, which was relatively less crowded. Saitama pointed at the hover cars zooming through the streets. Reinhardt stared at him for a moment, and let out a hearty laugh.

"Ha…! Miracles of modern engineering, I tell you. You don't have these where you come from? What planet did you say you were from again?"

"I'm not an alien. We just don't have flying cars." The walk sign turned silver, and the hover cars halted. As the pair of heroes stood by the sidewalk, Saitama took note of the numerous individuals crossing the street. "We don't have this many robots either."

"Oh, you mean the omnics? Heh! Don't be fooled, they're citizens, just like you and me." replied Reinhardt, before his tone took a more serious turn. "Wasn't always like that, though."

"Yeah. The Omnic Crisis." Reinhardt raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.

"You know about it?"

"Genos went on another rant yesterday. That topic stood out the most." he explained, while taking another bite of his croissant. "That event was the beginning of Overwatch, right?"

"Indeed it was! There are so many tales of valor- I could go on for hours about them!"

"Please don't."

"Ha…!" Reinhardt raised his croissant into the air dramatically. "A beacon of hope we were, in the midst of the darkness. And though a thousand armies were-" Saitama drowned out the rest by plugging his ears. About two minutes later he released them just as Reinhardt turned to face him. "Heh. It's kind of ironic, really. Omnics practically made Overwatch. And now it seems history's going to repeat itself."

"By the way, I was wondering…" Saitama finished the last of his croissant, and threw the wrapper away. "How many people were in Overwatch? You know, before…" At his words, Reinhardt couldn't help but bellow out in more hearty laughter.

"Ha…! I don't know, honestly. I lost count somewhere in the thousands." At this point Reinhardt just barely reached the point of yelling.

"That's a lot of people." noted Saitama.

"Right? Don't know a single one who punches behemoths for a living though. Except for maybe Doomfist. On a Monday." Reinhardt clenched his hands, almost crushing the croissant. He stared at the broken croissant, and closed his eyes. "I know we're a bit understaffed right now, but those days will come back. That's a promise, I tell you."

Saitama couldn't help but smile. Even if he didn't know much about this place, it put him at ease knowing there were heroes here giving it their all. He knew a lot of heroes who had more financial-related motives, but Reinhardt was different.

He knew that for certain because he bought him food.

"Shouldn't we be getting back now? I don't think that soldier guy will be happy we suddenly left." suggested Saitama. Reinhardt gave a laid-back shrug in response.

"Eh. We'll be fine. I know Jack may be a bit rough around the edges, bu- oh hey, look who's calling." Reinhardt pulled out his phone and answered. "Hey, Jack, I-"

A virtual onslaught of curses and yells barraged the two heroes before Reinhardt could even get the first sentence out, causing them to flinch rather violently. A few onlookers gave them a strange glance, as the incomprehensible storm of rage bellowed out of the phone.

Reinhardt quickly hung up and jammed the phone into his pocket, and gave Saitama an awkward glance. "Uh, let's pretend that didn't happen." Saitama nodded, extremely slowly, before they wordlessly made their way back towards the jet.

But not after circling around once to get another pair of croissants.

* * *

Genos stared at the building situated before him. For some reason he felt a strange vibe radiating from the overhung sign, which flashed a bright neon pink. Underneath the sign several mannequins stood behind the glass frame, showcasing different styles of clothing, ranging from crop tops to tuxedos. A small corridor formed an intersection between the windows, serving as the building's main entrance.

If the cringy expressions the customers wore as they left the premises weren't some kind of indication of immediate danger, then clearly he made a mistake letting Hana lead the way. Then again, he probably shouldn't expect much from a store named 'Janky'.

"Is this really the most suitable clothing store you could find?" Hana didn't seem to hear him, as she continued to loudly chew on her gum before blowing a small bubble. "This location doesn't seem very-"

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." she reassured with a casual wave of her hand. Genos found himself in the middle of contemplating the truth of that statement, but by then the rambunctious girl had already begun dragging Genos into the building against his will. He didn't know which drew the attention of the other customers, the sudden and unceremonious appearance of a cyborg, or the fact that said cyborg was currently scraping his feet backwards against the floor. He almost collided with a few other customer people along the way, including a reserved omnic and a woman with purple-tinted hair, who spared him a prolonged glance.

Despite being angled weirdly, he did take note of several clothing racks, and how most of them contained some kind of symbol advertising New York. Not necessarily surprising, but he wondered how many people would be willing to buy a checkerboard t-shirt for $45.

The cyborg wondered which section he would be dropped off, and interestingly enough Hana decided to stop in front of the changing rooms. Several cracks riddled the concrete, along with some profane graffiti most likely put there by an angry and unsatisfied customer.

Genos gave Hana a strange look. "I haven't gotten any clothes yet."

"Don't worry, I'm gonna go get you some." Hana said with a sardonic grin.

"You know, I'm perfectly capable of selecting and purchasing my own clo-" But Hana was already off, her view obscured by a distant clothing rack full of bright orange raincoats adorned with raccoon motifs. The cyborg had to wonder if this was payback for what happened with his arm, or if the antics of the young mech pilot occurred on a day-to-day basis.

At that moment he realized just how much sympathy the other Overwatch agents deserved from him.

Genos leaned back towards the concrete wall and crossed his arms. Either way, there wasn't much he could do about it. Hana was the one paying for the clothes after all. Not to mention the lack of discretion did prove to be rather inconvenient for him. Even now some of the others spared a glance at him, with others fixing their gaze for a bit longer. Ironically even the omnic customers found his appearance to be somewhat of an oddity.

One of these customers were bold enough to approach the cyborg. He leaned towards his right to find a rather tan woman in high heels, striding in his direction. The tints of purple in her hair made him recognize her as the same woman he almost ran into earlier. And whoever this woman was, she appeared to like the color purple with a burning passion.

Her violet blouse just barely reached her skinny jeans. Purple lines transected across her jet black gloves. Even her eyes glowed a seemingly innocent violet. It seemed that only her leather handbag deviated from that trend.

The woman offered a curious smile, but that did nothing to lessen Genos' guard.

"Is there something I can help you with, miss…?"

"Elizabeth. You can just call me Elizabeth." replied the mysterious woman. "And you are…?" Genos remained silent for a few seconds.

"Genos." he said curtly. Elizabeth nodded appreciatively.

"Genos, hmmm? That's certainly an interesting name."

"You still haven't answered my earlier question." Genos replied rather firmly.

"I'm not selling you anything, if that's what you're wondering." Elizabeth zipped open her handbag, and reached in to take out a card, which she then handed to Genos. "I was just wondering if I could have a bit of your time." Genos took the orange card. Several white lines crossed the green pattern horizontally. In the center a large blue 'T' embedded itself inside a larger 'O'.

"The Omnic Trust Corporation?" Genos read aloud.

"Yes. You see…" Elizabeth took a short bow, before continuing. "The purpose of our company is to help ease the tensions between humans and omnics. Gathering people's opinions is part of our job. It helps us with our research, but more importantly, it helps us develop new ways to establish rapport."

"But is there any reason the company has contacted me specifically?" asked Genos. Maybe it was just him, but the way she looked just now didn't match with what she just said.

"Yes, actually. You are a cyborg, correct?"

"...Yes." Strangely enough, Elizabeth didn't seem to have any reaction to that. Did she know about it beforehand? "What of it?"

"Well, it's more of a personal inference really," she sheepishly scratched the back of her head. "But with the increasing development and research in prosthetics, I had to wonder if it was possible that people with cybernetic limbs had a less biased opinion on the topic. Like I said, it's just a personal inference. It hasn't actually been confirmed."

"If my opinion matters that much, then I will keep it to ten words. I believe that humans and omnics alike can coexist together." To be frank, he only ever read about the Omnic Crisis, but he didn't know about any specifics, nor did he have the chance to witness the aforementioned discrimination himself. Still, that was more or less his opinion.

"Straightforward and simple, huh? I like it." Elizabeth activated some kind of holopad, and jotted down a few notes. "Well, I suppose my 'inference' wasn't completely wrong. Thank you for your time, Genos."

"It was nothing." "Well, I suppose I should get going now. Perhaps you could contact me sometime and share a bit of advice. You have my number after all."

"I do?" Elizabeth pointed to the card in the cyborg's hand, and indeed there on the card were a set of numbers printed in black. Which he found somewhat strange since he could've sworn it wasn't there before.

Then the cyborg looked up, only to see that Elizabeth had disappeared.

"Uh, Earth to Genos? You read me?" Hana waved her hand over his face, garnering some annoyance from the cyborg. "What happened?"

"Nothing." he quickly replied, as he subtly jammed the card into his pocket. He then took note of the small pile of clothes Hana held in her hands, and the curious patterns that adorned the clothes on top of the pile.

"Well?" asserted Hana. "Are you gonna try them on or what?"

Genos let out another sigh, and reluctantly accepted the pile of clothes before wordlessly marching into the corridor of changing rooms, ignoring the plethora of graffiti and floor stains while entering a vacant room.

Carefully he laid out the clothes onto the bench, and immediately the number of creases on his forehead increased tenfold. He was fairly certain that these sweaters would do nothing to add to his discretion. If anything, they would definitely break it. No better way to do that than to wear a hoodie adorned with a pattern consisting solely of frogs on unicycles.

That went into the dusty discard pile in the corner faster than the next supermarket sale.

Also available to him was some kind of a mouse jacket. He knew that it had been designed to resemble some kind of mouse because the creator had taken the liberty of adding a jagged tail and a pair of golden ears, both of which he took note of in the mirror only after he zipped it up halfway. He threw that one into the discard pile with relatively more force than he intended, and the jacket ended up flying over the walls of his changing room and landing in someone else's. The muffled screams which followed shortly after did not warrant any attention. The smearing noises however, did.

Genos decided to take back what he said earlier. This had to have been payback for the arm incident because if that girl were this malicious and cruel on a regular basis then their organization would collapse faster than-

Oh.

Nevermind.

The cyborg continued to cycle through the pile of clothes, giving it a brief examination before tossing it into the discard pile based off of two criteria, namely that the piece of clothing stood out too much or it made him look like some cosplayer running on a budget of approximately five dollars. Which would essentially complete the first criteria regardless.

Eventually he did manage to reach a suitable piece of clothing. In front of the mirror he dangled a white sweater with a familiar rabbit insignia emboldened on the front. If Hana planned this in advance so he could advertise her then clearly she was smarter than they let on. Not that this bothered Genos; if Jack's plan went accordingly that would end up being the case regardless.

He left the changing room with the sweater in hand, ignoring the smearing noises in favor of getting the sweater paid for and getting back to Jack as soon as possible. The only problem with this was when he arrived at the entrance of the corridor, Hana was nowhere to be seen.

"Hana?" Strange. He hadn't been gone for that long. He glanced around, noticing nothing particularly odd about his surroundings.

He walked around for a bit, passing some of the other customers. But there was no Hana. After a prolonged and futile search Genos began to feel some concern.

A ringing sound prompted him to look down to the floor, where a pink phone slowly slid across the floor as it vibrated. He picked it up, squinting at the shattered screen displaying the words 'SOS' in bright letters.

The store clerk, quietly sitting at her desk, only briefly heard a titanium fist clenching in the distance.

Several clothing racks suddenly toppled over, with various pieces of clothing spilling onto the floor. The rapid clattering noises were soon following by the blaring of the detection alarm, with the device situated at the gate flashing a bright red.

The customers suddenly went into a panic as a mysterious gust of wind blasted past them and causing dust to crash into their eyes, forcing them into a guarded stance with their arms over their faces. After about a second the store clerk climbed up from under the desk, her head darted around for a few seconds before landing on the spinning revolving door. What she did not notice, however, was the large crack in the floor near the far corridor, where the Demon Cyborg once stood.


	6. Acceleration II

A lone figure stood atop the roof, his foot planted firmly on the ledge. His unwavering gaze reached the oblivious masses below. Disgusting. They were all so naive. They always took everything for granted. It made him sick just looking at them. In fact, the ignorant masses were probably the one thing he couldn't tolerate, aside from one other person.

And that person had a habit of arriving late.

Though she probably knew that. He'd really like to shoot the guy who decided that hiring her of all people would be a good idea.

"You're late." the Reaper growled, to no one's surprise. The woman behind him simply responded with a sinister grin.

"Relaaaaaaax, no need to get all edgy." Though at this point everyone knew the best way to temper Reaper's edginess was to move in the opposite direction. "I just had to do something important, that's all." The Reaper did not buy that one bit.

"What's with the get-up then?" Sombra looked down at her blouse. Then she stared back at him. The way she dressed herself she seemed as though she needed to attend a meeting. And meetings were among the few things they shared a mutual hate for.

"Simmer down, amigo, it's no big deal." Sombra shrugged excessively as she removed her hair pin, allowing her hair to flow freely. "Besides, I doubt someone like you would understand fashion, Gabriel. Not when your wardrobe consists of literally nothing but black trenchcoats. There's a limit to how edgy you can get, you know."

"I told you not to call me that."

"What? Amigo? Edgy? Huh. Edgy amigo. I think I'll call you that from now on."

"Sombra…" Reaper growled menacingly.

"And don't think I didn't see you stuffing those trenchcoats into your shotgun shells. Who the hell even does that?"

"I'd like to see you try to maintain a wardrobe when your clothes turn into smoke every time you put them on!" Black smoke drifted off of Reaper's body, kind of like a fog machine. With a douse of emo. The exasperation left Reaper soon enough. "And stop going through my wardrobe. It's creepy."

"Oh please. I go through everyone's wardrobe. Oh yeah. That reminds me." Sombra pulled out a triangular device from her purse. Business clothes really didn't suit her tastes, though she would rather not admit it to someone like Gabriel. She flicked the device to the ground, watching as it gradually glowed brighter. Once the light simmered down, it revealed…

A black shirt with a golden own logo embedded on the front, and a pair of jeans with a few extra pockets. Also included was a tophot bearing the same logo, for some weird reason.

Reaper raised an eyebrow, not she would be able to notice. "What is this." he asked dryly. Sombra only grinned. That usually meant something bad.

"Oh, nothing," she asked all innocent-like. "Just thought it'd be nice for you to try something new for a change."

"No." Reaper would not stoop that low.

"Pretty pl-"

" **No."**

"Well then I guess I have no choice." What exactly did she mean by that? Reaper got his answer, when he took note of the small box. In Sombra's claws.

"Where did you get that." No reply. Only a malicious hacker grin. "Where. Did. You. Get. That."

"You know, it's funny how you thought a plain old padlock would keep me out. I took lock-picking class for a reason you kno- nope, not until you put those on!" Sombra swiftly dodged to the right as Reaper made a beeline for the box, only for him to hit the ground. Instead of making an impact, he vanished into smoke and spread himself everywhere. Sombra continued to swiftly dodge the hands emerging from the smoke, laughing all the while.

The people below were a bit confused as to why empty shotgun shells rained from the sky.

* * *

"Wow, that's a lot of smoke. Should we maybe call the fire department?" Saitama asked concerningly. A few others took pictures and pointed at the ever-emerging mass of smoke. The way the smoke appeared black instead of gray made him think some folks gathered to perform some emo-rock concert up on the roof.

"Hmmm…" Reinhardt rubbed his chin. "Nah. It's probably just some prank. The landlord will deal with them soon enough."

"Yeah, you're probably right." And it was the future after all. They'd probably have a flying firetruck go over there and deal with it. "Hey, wanna get some more croissants for later?"

"Eh, I don't see why not!" The strange duo crossed the street, unaware of what was to come.

* * *

"So. We finally meet at last, Genos-san." The emerald visor marked nothing but intrigue; the same could be said for the orange irises. "Though I sincerely wish you had been more… mindful, of your surroundings."

"Sorry. That was my bad." Genos sheepishly scratched his head. Apparently multitasking wasn't one of Genos' more formidable traits, at least not when it came to moving at extreme speeds. He turned one corner, hoping to quickly pinpoint the location of Hana's SOS, when he suddenly ran straight into another person. Luckily for Genos' he didn't run into his cowboy-cosplaying colleague, otherwise he would be a stain on the ground right now.

Unfortunately, that didn't relieve much of their current predicament. Or rather, Genji's current predicament. The impact had been so great, that neither he or McCree could process what even happened, before Genji found himself plowing through several buildings, before finally beside a remote cafe at the edge of New York, where the ground sloped up rather harshly.

If the disheveled concrete didn't prove enough of a problem, every block in the northern district probably heard the metal grinding up brick and concrete. Those close enough to the impact had the misfortune of nearly getting a concussion from the flying debris, though thankfully no one was hurt. Well, almost no one.

McCree stared at his friend stuck in the wall. Then he stared at Genos, who gave him an apologetic expression. Then he pulled out a second cigarette, and ignited it. Someone in the spectating crowd glanced at him concernedly, probably thinking that smoking two cigarettes at once could not be healthy. Well, one simply was not enough to deal with the situation at hand. Maybe not even two. Following up with a glass of whiskey would probably do the trick though.

But he'd worry about that after he pulled out his friend from the massive crater in the ground, fixed him up, then convince every single person here to not post those pictures they were currently taking. That last one would probably take a miracle though. First thing's first, however…

"Hey, uhhh…" McCree, for the first time in a while, was at a loss for words. How does someone address a cyborg who just rammed your friend at mach speed? That little habit of his probably would have been useful to include in the description Jack gave him, but instead he had to be super vague, as usual. "I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that you have something important to tell us, since you were uh… in a hurry?"

"You are correct in your assumption. Hana has been abducted. The culprit is most likely Talon." McCree stared at him, before pulling out a third cigar. His lighter seemed to have run empty, so he pulled out his gun and shot the end instead, startling everyone in the crowd.

"Well… shit."


	7. Acceleration III

**AN: Cover Art by Honey_BBEE on Twitter.**

* * *

Two lone figures sat inside of the Overjet, mostly thinking up ways to pass the time. Hopefully Genos would offer Hana some words of encouragement, because by now the two were already taking up more time than expected.

Jack sat across Fareeha, while performing some maintenance on their equipment. Currently, Fareeha set her sights on polishing her beak helmet. Jack felt more content with tweaking his pulse rifle. Not that it really mattered, since he did this on a regular basis. Pulse rifles were one of a kind, after all.

He did find it strange though. The eery sense of calm, that is. Despite recent events, things seem to have quieted down for the most part. And that put off Jack the most.

He got so lost in his thoughts, that the screwdriver slipped out of his hands, before clattering onto the floor. Jack stared at it blankly, instead of bending down to reach it.

"Something on your mind?" Fareeha stopped scrubbing. Jack sighed.

"Hana's taking longer than expected." he half-lied. That wasn't necessarily the thing that bothered him at the moment.

"Is that so surprising?"

"No. But it's still pretty frustrating." Frustrating that he and his cohorts had put everything at stake. Frustrating that he couldn't take everything into his own hands.

"She's only a child Jack." Fareeha countered. "Let's hope that someone her age gets to stay out of politics as much as possible." Jack could agree to that much. Overwatch had politics to thank for when it got shut down. The same could be said with Hana's early retirement from her gaming career, just so she could participate in a war.

Jack leaned back in his chair, and stared up at the ceiling. "You know… even if we do scrape our way past this, it won't be over. Don't get me wrong, I really wish we only had the UN to deal with, but I'll be damned if the other big-timers don't take any action."

"What other 'big-timers' are you referring to?"

"Vishkar. The leaders of Talon. Russia's counter-omnic forces, as well as the omnic threat. It may not feel like it right now, but the whole world has set its sights on us. Almost like it's waiting."

"Waiting for what, exactly?"

"For us to make the next move." Jack bent down and picked up the screwdriver and tossed it back into the toolbox. "If I were younger I'd just pray we made the right one, but experience has taught me there is no 'right' move. Just the one that doesn't bite back as hard."

Fareeha would have questioned him on that, if her communicator didn't start beeping like crazy. She pressed the button.

"Fareeha, please tell me Overwatch isn't related to that massive crater in New York?" It was Symmetra's voice.

"Symmetra. You're using the emergency line. My point being: You aren't supposed to be using this line." Fareeha admonished, though to be fair this was one of the lesser sins that occurred within the past few days. "Also, what crater?"

"Check the news channel. Now." Jack, who listened in on their conversation, pressed the button on his control pad, and tuned into the news channel as the monitor unfolded.

A man in a suit appeared on the sidewalk of New York, near a rather large crowd of people. Someone needed to teach this man how to tie a tie, because he clearly did not know how. "Uh, this is uhhh… This is Johnny Depth coming from- I mean **to** you, live, from Vulpex Studios- is that pronounced with a 'V' or a 'W'? Coming to you live with some breaking news." Johnny Depth flipped through the papers in his hand, a few of them getting blown away. He either didn't bother to care or was too oblivious to notice.

"Uh, yeah. Just earlier, an unidentifiable object soared through New York, decimating several buildings, along with the city's repair budget. See, look at that. Miracle no one got hurt." The camera panned in on the buildings, and true to his word, they all sported a massive hole in the center. A few people glanced out of the massive hole, before making themselves invisible once more.

An image of a crater faded onto the screen. "And here we can see the object's final destination: right beside Blizzard Cafe. Call me crazy, but it doesn't look like they're going to have any parking for a while…"

Jack's eyes widened. Fareeha dropped her cleaning rag.

The news reporter continued. "Interestingly enough, the people closest to the crater claimed a guy dressed like a cowboy shot all their phones before making a beeline out of there with two other people. They also complained that he was simultaneously smoking five cigarettes at once. That does not sound healthy. Apparently the man yelled for them to 'put a sock in it.'"

Fareeha completely froze. Jack clasped his hands on the table, praying that what he just heard wasn't true at all and this was just some horrid nightmare that he really wanted to wake up from.

"In other news, that may or may not be relevant, the apartment complex on Joule Street is billowing a lot of smoke. And I mean a LOT. Either someone doesn't want to see what's going on up there, or some folks are having the sickest emo rock concert of their lives. And that's it for- huh? What? Oh. Oh." Some guy off screen handed him a stack of new papers, which he continued to jumble through.

"Uh, this just in, there was a break-in at the Maspa Warehouse over on Collington Avenue, which has been abandoned for some time now. Witnesses report the culprits were a group of cosplayers, which apparently include a boy band member, a Star Wars extra, and a… cowboy? Wait a second…"

"Jack, you had better tell me just what in the world you're- Jack? Fareeha, is he there?" Sadly, Symmetra's words remained unheard, for Fareeha's brain functions halted at some point during the news broadcast. Jack stormed out of the room only to slip on a wet rag, hitting his head on the table as he fell down.

Fareeha waited a whole minute before picking up the rag. Then she buried her face in it.

* * *

Approximately five minutes earlier…

* * *

"Hey. Heather."

"What." Heather was never one for talk. Whenever she took a job, she made sure that she did the job. Her partner, Jordi, on the other hand, seemed to grab at every opportunity to annoy her.

"My throat is itchy. Can you get me some cough drops from downstairs?" He scratched his throat.

"No. Go get them yourself." she growled back.

"But there's like, ten flights of stairs!"

"Then you should have thought about that before coming up all the way here. We're supposed to be guarding the entrance, remember?"

"But's it's so boring. All we ever do is stare at a door. And it's not like anyone's gonna come through the door. This might as well be a fallout shelter, the way they budgeted this place."

"Yeah. Guess they're really big on guarding whatever's down there." Heather paused a moment to check her magazine to see if it was loaded. "Probably has to do with whatever the hell's been going on the past few days."

"Oh yeah, that thing where the Titan Omnic blew up?"

"Yeah. That thing." To think she'd end up working for the goons who tried to trash her home city made her feel sick inside somewhat, but as a mercenary she had a feeling it would turn out this way at some point. "Still can't believe those goons at Overwatch managed to pull off something like that. Credit's due where it's due, you know?" she laughed. Seeing the Talon brass getting it handed to them made it so worth it.

"So, uh, about those cough drops…"

"You didn't even listen to a thing I said, did you."

"Sorry I couldn't hear you. My throat was itchy."

"Oh shut up." Heather turned away from her idiot partner. She wiped away some sweat on her forehead.

"Hey uh, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?"

"Keep your mouth shut. That's probably just your-" Actually, yeah. It did start feeling hot. Pretty odd, considering they were underground. "That's weird. Did someone turn the heat on?"

"Beats me." Jordi turned towards the door once again, this time noticeably sweatier. Something sharp caught his ear. "Did you hear something?"

"No. What?"

"Oh, it's like a hissing noise. See, there it is agai-"

Now both of them were in dire need of cough drops. Mainly due to the blast door caving in suddenly, and so fast that dust shot up everywhere, engulfing everything. Heather chose the worst time to gasp, and found herself coughing and wheezing so hard she dropped her gun.

The dust got everywhere, on her skin and even under her clothes. It smelled disgusting, but she found it difficult to hold her breath in this situation, so she did all she could for it to not get into her mouth. When the dust cleared, she found that her partner had collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

The sunlight billowing into the room came as an unpleasant surprise, but when she came to, three silhouettes became visible. One of them stepped forward, tipping his cowboy hat.

"I hope you lot've got some air conditioning… cause we're about to bring the heat."

Heather couldn't recall what happened after that, but she clearly remembered the collective groan of two constipated cyborgs.


	8. Acceleration IV

Symmetra walked along the sidewalk, making her way past the other bystanders. The irritated woman spared not a glance to the people she just brushed past, not even bothering with a simple 'excuse me.' Things had been going down the drain ever since she got here. She herself gave those pointers to Jack regarding how they should proceed with the conference. She had been extremely specific in her instructions on what to wear during the conference. She even took of the liberty of bringing out the big guns, and handpicked her $3000 dollar, aquamarine dress just for the occasion.

But no. Things just couldn't work her way, now could they? Not only did several members not show up to the conference early, like she had instructed, but apparently they were causing such a ruckus downtown, they made their way onto live television, despite it being made clear that the operation be brought out as discretely as possible.

She could only hope that this incident wouldn't go on national television. Damn that McCree! Even though McCree had a pretty bad streak, how does someone like him manage to cause hundreds of thousands of dollars in collateral damage without getting noticed by the authorities? Hell, maybe she'd even commend him for it, right after she slapped him.

In front of her a small establishment made a rather unique appearance. Its color scheme consisted of a simple green clashing with blue, but they took it a step further by animating their logo. It would have been impressive if it didn't get completely overshadowed by the spectacle beside it.

Ah, Blizzard Cafe. Finally. The way its employees spoke to the police, they hadn't seen this much action for a long time. Though the store itself escaped unscathed, she definitely couldn't say the same for its parking lot. The crater ran several feet deep, the heavily disfigured silhouette of a man appearing at the very bottom. The edges of the pavement ended harshly with a plethora of jutting cracks, the bits of the road completely separated like a poorly designed jigsaw puzzle.

She made note of these details, despite the surrounding area of the crater being blocked off by several miles' worth of police tape and a massive crowd who stared at it in interest. She really couldn't blame them, to be honest. Judging from the size of the crater, it looked as though the heavens were furious with New York, and decided to take it out on the poor city by constipating a small meteor in its general direction. The absence of one only confused the masses even further.

Nearby, a S.W.A.T team made its presence known after exiting out of a large black truck, and right beside it two individuals dressed in more casual clothing waved to her. About time someone showed up early.

"What is this. What is all of this. I sincerely hope you have an explanation for this, Jack. We're already being hung by the noose." Symmetra's high heels clicked menacingly against the concrete.

Jack shook his head. The way he did it he seemed as though the hardened man witnessed enough battles to last two lifetimes. "I wish I did, Symmetra. I wish I did."

"Well then, at least explain to me why so many people are missing from the conference." she yelled more than said. "Was I not clear about being early? Is the very idea of arriving on time a concept lost to the eternal void of incompetence?"

"Relax, Symmetra, there's still plenty of time before the conference." Fareeha argued, hoping to diffuse the situation to a degree. "If you're talking about Hana, I know where she went. She and Genos went to buy some clothes. So he doesn't stand out as much."

"Clothes for Geno-" Oh right. Jack mentioned the cyborg in his report. She had been so focused on specifying attire for the members of Overwatch that she completely overlooked their two 'guests.' "Alright, alright. Fair enough. But did you have to send Hana to escort him?"

"She's old enough to handle herself." Fareeha argued, but not even she thought she believed that. At least, not completely.

"Very well. What of the arctic team's status? I'd have assumed they wrapped up their business by yesterday."

"No word from them either." Jack's eyes glowed somewhat sullenly. It was easy to tell without his mask on. "I think they might've run into some trouble. The Watchpoint beacon isn't active.

"I really hope they're okay." Fareeha added.

"Let's just hope they can handle things on their end while I-we sort this out." Symmetra rubbed her forehead. All this stress really wasn't healthy for her. She could really go for a cup of coffee right now. "Okay, okay. Hana and Genos are getting clothes at the store. Tracer's group can't attend. I'll just have to inform the conference members of this development. And McCree is currently causing a scene at the Maspa Warehouse, for reasons unknown. I assume Genji is either the 'Star Wars extra' or the 'boy band member' identified in the news, since he's nowhere else to be found."

"Is that everyone?" asked Jack. Symmetra responded by shaking her head.

"There's still the other conference guest that's attending, as well as Reinhardt. Any idea on where he is?"

"No. Though I did manage to contact him earlier." Years of honed reflexes caused him to notice the most minute of details, and he saw Fareeha looking around awkwardly. He was almost afraid to ask, "Something on your mind Fareeha?"

"I… it's Reinhardt." she admitted. "I got a text from him earlier. Apparently he and Saitama went out to get food. See, he even took a selfie with Saitama. Oh wow, that's a lot of croissants."

"To get… food? Actually, now that you mention it, I am pretty hun… gry."

Wait.

Why the hell did he just say that?

Jack made a mental note to answer that **after** he dealt with the raging volcano in their vicinity. Apparently Symmetra hadn't taken to this new development very lightly, as her face resembled that of an ultra-plinian volcano, probably capable of destroying (the other) half of New York.

At the last second however, the volcano thankfully fizzled out instead of erupting. Symmetra had to do a few breathing exercises before completely regaining her composure.

"You." Symmetra jabbed a finger at Fareeha. "Go inside the cafe. Get me a large hot regular, on the double. Get it done."

"But I'm pretty sure they're clo-"

"I said **get it done, Fareeha.** " Fareeha ran away from the volcano before it could erupt again.

"And **you."** Jack unconsciously stood up straight, as though his own body feared the very notion of angering the woman. "Give me your communicator. I need to make a call."

"Hey…" Three gunshots rang out, downing three soldiers, but they proved miniscule in the face of the oncoming storm. "So uh… about that conference-"

"Not a word from you McCree. Not. A. Word." McCree flinched. One of the soldiers tried to rush towards him in his moment of distraction, only to get burnt by a fiery blast from Genji. "Explain yourself. Right this instant."

"Is now the- ugh. Is now the best time?" McCree scrambled to reload his revolver, but instead opted to throw a flashbang in his attacker's face. "I'm uh, I'm kinda busy here."

"Interesting. Busy. Busy, you say?" Oh boy. Here she goes… "Listen here, and listen well, Jesse McCree. I **could** have stayed asleep last night. I **could** have spent the next morning still asleep. But no. Instead, I decide to wake up at three in the morning after getting word of a conference that could decide the fate of Overwatch. I spent two hours to do all of that paperwork. I spent several more hours to make the perfect preparations for this life or death conference. Tell me, Jesse, do you have **any** idea what that's like?"

"Symmetra, dear…" His words ended up being a mere mumble. That tends to happen when you're being shot at.

Unfortunately, his words did not go over her head. "Do NOT 'dear' me, Jesse 'Mercer' McCree. If you even think about using any of your feminine wiles on me, I will throw you into next Tuesday so hard you'll be begging for Mercy!" McCree knew he was in for it once he started using his whole name. He honestly didn't know which scared him more, the grenades lobbed by those Talon goons or the bombshells hurled by Symmetra.

"Look, look, Symmetra. I know you're uh, I know you're mad but could you maybe, perhaps, consider roasting me after I'm done here? We're-agh, we're in the middle of a rescue operation." McCree leaped back as the corridor burst into flames, and began stomping his boot when it caught fire. The other soldiers weren't so fortunate.

"A rescue operation?" Symmetra's anger mixed with confusion. "No one assigned a rescue operation. I'd have know about it."

"It was uh, kind of a spur of the moment thing, really," McCree gave an awkward laugh, then quickly shut up when Symmetra started growling. "But yeah. Long story short, Hana got kidnapped by some Talon goons."

"Wh- Hana was kidnapped?! I was informed by- Jack! What's the meaning of this?" Well, it took the attention off of him. For the moment at least. "Just what on Earth is going on here?! She should be with Genos right now. **Buying clothes.** "

"Oh, Genos?" McCree rolled forwards to avoid getting whacked in the face by a crowbar. "He's with us right now. Don't ask why."

"You have ten seconds to explain why one of the conference guests is currently raiding a warehouse." Dammit. That technically wasn't asking.

"Oh come on, give the kid a break. Think of it as, uh… as an interview. Except in this one we kind of just skipped through all that boring talk and jumped straight into the test run."

"I'M THE ONE WHO ASSIGNS AND HANDLES THE INTERVIEWS, MCCREE! YOU HAD BEST REMEMBER THAT!" Everyone in the room simultaneously froze. A terrifying presence washed over them, as the voice reverberated in their heads. They didn't know who yelled over the phone, but in the moment a presence washed over them, as though their deaths could be decided with the flick of her finger. Truly, a person to be feared.

Everything started moving once more when Genos kicked someone in the crotch.

" _Psst. Hey Genos. Wanna help me with this?"_ Genos turned to him as he finished smashing two heads together, his face lighting up in understanding.

"Ohhh. I see. Here, allow me." He moved across the room so fast it looked like he teleported. McCree didn't really care, he was just glad he could get the thing away from him.

Now he owed three cyborgs a favor.

Genos held down the button on the round device, probably a bit too early. "-cree, don't you dare hang up on me! You better answer right now or else I'll-"

"Ma'am? I highly recommend that you calm down. Your blood pressure is alarmingly high." Another soldier threw a hook at his face as he spoke through the device. Needless to say, he won't be using that hand for a while.

"...Who is this?" A hint of suspicion lingered in her tone.

"This is Genos. As of the moment I am unofficially working for Overwatch." For the time being, at least. Depending on what happened next, that would probably change. "Since my cohorts and I are currently in the middle of something important, I will try to simplify matters as much as possible."

"...Yes. Please do." Her blood pressure had gone down considerably lower. The same could not be said for the soldier who took an incinerator blast to the face.

"Shortly after our arrival to New York, Hana and I embarked to a clothing store named 'Janky' to acquire some clothing to conceal my cybernetic nature, which I assume Jack has informed you of. Before I could search for clothes by myself, Hana undertook the task herself. During the time she spent searching for an appropriate set of clothes, I conversed with a businesswoman wearing purple clothes."

McCree suddenly wasn't so sure about letting Genos on the call.

"After she left, Hana arrived with an assortment of clothes for me to try out. I went inside of the men's dressing room to try them on. After a series of careful deductions, I selected the piece that did the least damage to my dignity. But when I went outside to confirm my purchase with Hana, she was nowhere to be found. I only found her smartphone lying on the ground, which displayed an SOS signal. Did you get all of that?"

"Yes.." Weird. Usually someone admonished him for being a bad storyteller, or at least requested to have something repeated since they got lost. "I assume you then proceeded to follow the SOS signal to your current location?"

"That is correct." Genji aimed and launched another blast of fire to melt several guns, their holders screaming in pain. Genos followed up by striking them in the face consecutively.

"And the destruction throughout New York?" Genos hitched.

"That… was my fault." he openly admitted. "I was traveling across the city at mach speeds to pinpoint the location of the SOS, but I failed to take note of my surroundings, causing me to run into Genji. Quite literally, I might add. The force flung his body through several buildings in New York."

"...You are aware that your actions have caused several thousand dollars worth of property damage, and initiated a city-wide panic?"

"Yes, I am aware. I must apologize. Usually it is my master who causes such unprecedented collateral damage." Symmetra wasn't sure why or how, but she could've sworn she heard Genos bowing. Over a **call**. "I will accept any punishment you find necessary."

"Well, um, never mind the repercussions for the time being. I would like to know how Genji is doing at the moment."

"He is doing surprisingly well, despite what happened earlier. Here, I will have visual confirmation ready in a moment." In one swift motion, he snapped a picture of Genji fending off several soldiers at once, before tapping the 'share' button.

"...Did you just send me a text message? I don't recall giving you my phone number."

"I have McCree to thank for that." McCree frantically shook his head at him after hearing his name get mentioned., but found himself getting bombarded by more soldiers brandishing knives. "I hope you don't mind me using your satellite."

"I don't, but…" Symmetra took a moment to process the image Genos sent her. "...Why is Genji shooting fire out of his hand?" Where the emerald glow ended at his right shoulder, a stunning orange light emanated from his arm, the flames wrapping themselves around his palm and swallowing his foes whole.

"Ah yes. That." At this point he simply ignored the shotgun shells bouncing off of his body. "I gained quite a bit of experience in self-maintenance during my battles with numerous monsters. I managed to weld most of Genji's frame back together using the tools I had, but unfortunately his right arm was far too damaged for general repairs. Thankfully, I had brought with me a spare set of arms, so I-"

"Stop. Let me get this straight. You couldn't repair his arm, so instead you cut it off, then attached one of your own arms." She sounded like she was reading an instruction manual made by Torbjorn with his claw arm, while drunk.

"Well, more like tore it off," Genos corrected, albeit rather sheepishly. "But yes. That is the gist of it. I made sure not to cause any damage to Genji's internal organs."

"...Although it's a somewhat crude job, it was generous of you to lend him a han- I mean offer your services. Honestly, though. Is it okay for him to use your spare? It looks like he's having too much fun with it."

"I don't mind. I did owe him after all." Symmetra's meaning went completely over his head, but she decided not to press on it.

"I suppose the next best course of action would be for you to complete your mission as soon as possible. Your instatement into Overwatch should begin soon after."

"Very well. But do keep in mind that I haven't completely agreed to Jack's terms. I must also consult my master regarding this matter. He has yet to be informed of the situation." Genos walked over to the counter and grabbed a steel cord, and tossed it over to McCree who effortlessly caught it. "Is there anything else I should add?"

"No, that is all. Thank you for the report." she replied. "Since you are here, would you like to know something… interesting, about my… associate, over there?"

"Associate?" Genos turned towards McCree, who was currently in the middle of tying up a group of soldiers. "McCree, you mean?"

"Yes, McCree." Genos couldn't see the mischievous smirk on her face, but he could tell something was off about her. "Listen closely. He…"

It confused McCree as to why Genos suddenly went silent on the call, only nodding once or twice. He simply shrugged and tightened the knot on the cord.

"...I see. That is interesting." Genos agreed. He heard Symmetra chuckle over the call.

"Well, I have to go now. There are still many matters that need to be settled. But it was a pleasure meeting you Genos."

"I'm inclined to agree. I will see you at the conference." And with that, Genos ended the call.

"So how'd it go?" McCree pulled a bunch of guns and stuck them into one corner. "Better than me, I hope."

"Most likely, yes." he replied. McCree frowned at that, but he didn't deny it. "Is the arm still functioning well, Genji?"

"I feel like the raging spirit of a thousand dragons, united by one blade, bound to consume all that dares to worship the evil that… " Genos tuned him out and just translated that as a 'yes'. Apparently droning on was a common habit among cyborgs.

"As interesting as all of that sounds, we've still got a captive to rescue." McCree pulled out a cigarette, but forgot about one thing.

"Ah crap. Lighter's empty."

"Allow me, my friend." Genji offered his replacement prosthetic hand. McCree spared him one glance before turning towards all the burnt bodies lying on the ground. No one was dead, but seeing those writhing bodies on the ground, their skin tainted black and swollen…

"You know what," McCree quickly shoved the cigarette back into his pocket. "I think I'm good. Let's go."

The trio moved forward with a new confidence, save for Genos, who continued giving McCree a strange look, unbeknownst to the cowboy.


	9. Acceleration V

Sombra browsed her phone as she sat atop her luggage, dressed in her signature purple coat and leggings. Though she did boast a large wardrobe that easily trumped Reaper's, neither of them inextricably couldn't deny the trepidity of people in expensive black suits. Basically everything about them reeked of terror, from their extensively long and boring meetings to droning on about numbers and profits. They even had someone like that in Talon, before he 'accidentally' fell off a bridge. Not once did she even fathom taking on the guise of one.

On top of all of that, it had been quite a risky move, approaching her target directly, but it paid off. Granted, she didn't glean nearly enough information to classify him as a 'friend', but that only made it all the more exciting.

Over the years, many well-known people had a run in with the infamous hacker. Some of them ended up dead due to their uselessness. Others she gave the misfortune of either playing into her hands or having their 'dirt' released to the public. The power of information could do something like that, and she didn't even have to physically be there to remind them of their 'friendship'. Really all she had to do was make a few calls, or press a few buttons.

But this, this was entirely different. Now she found herself dealing with someone off the grid entirely. Because no one gets off the grid, ever. These days anything can be hacked… and anyone. Yet for the first time in her life, that rule didn't apply.

And that only made the hunt all that more invigorating.

Around her, Talon soldiers busied themselves handling precious cargo, or performing some basic maintenance on the various machinery strewn throughout the massive room. So far things had gone smoothly for her, perhaps too smoothly. She reached Talon's underground aircraft hangar without notice. Avoiding cameras equipped with facial recognition could be a real problem, especially in New York, where they beefed up the security around the UN Headquarters. However, that hadn't been the case. Maybe they were getting a little too comfortable with the peace and quiet, but in a short time that would soon change.

Sombra hit the dial button on her phone. A very growly voice responded.

"Hola amigo." she greeted teasingly. "I assume things are going well on your end?"

"As good as it could get, honestly." Sombra wondered what he meant by that, before a loud banging sound echoed throughout the phone, followed by a few curse words. She believed he hit his head against something hard. "I'm almost in position. There, happy?" Sombra forced herself to suppress a laugh.

"Lighten up a little, chuckles. A favor's a favor."

"And it's the only reason I'm even doing this in the first place. And just so you know, I still can't believe I'm doing this." He really didn't. He could've listened to Widowmaker's warning, but nooooo. The french assassin had told him about the time she had taken a day off, only for Sombra to ruin it by calling in one of her favors. Apparently she tasked her to infiltrate a massive company, just to steal the latest copy of the program 'Half-Life'. She returned to base bruised and battered, and above all empty handed. That's when the hacker laughingly informed her that the program didn't even exist.

That would be the first and last favor Widowmaker owed to Sombra.

"Well, nevermind. Where are you headed all of a sudden?" asked Reaper. The sounds of Storm Eagles revving up caught his ear. Most likely the hacker had retreated to the Alpha Hangar underneath the outskirts of New York. He had to give the commissioners of the facility some credit; far enough from the UN headquarters to remain undetected, yet close enough to keep tabs on them.

"Don't worry about it too much, dear." She looked up as one of the foremen waved to her, signaling the aircraft was now ready for departure. She got off her luggage and made her way into the jet. "I just need to pay a few 'friends' a visit." Reaper decided not to press her on that. He knew very well what Sombra meant by 'friends'.

"You know, the brass isn't gonna be happy about this. Whatever it is you're planning."

"Who said they needed to know?" Reaper had a feeling she'd say that. "No need to worry about getting yelled at, I've already got that part handled. Just do yours, then you can go home and watch Vampire Diaries."

"Yeah… Wait wh-" But Sombra already hung up. Then she snapped her phone in half and tossed the pieces into the garbage bin near the couch.

Sombra placed her luggage in the corner of the jet, and hung her jacket on the chair before making herself comfortable on the couch. It felt good to stretch her legs after a long day of espionage.

As she rested her head on her arms, she thought back to the clothing store. The details came back to her like a photograph. Genos. Orange eyes, metallic limbs, a sleeveless shirt. But most importantly, a sense of justice. His affiliation with Overwatch came to her as no surprise, but that didn't matter.

Because soon enough, all the pieces would fall into place.

"Renold! What the blazes is going on up there?!" demanded the boss. Or at least Hana assumed he was the boss, since he tied her up in the middle of what she assumed to be the complex's security room.

"Funny you should ask that boss, since the whole place is actually going up in blazes!" She would probably be bored out of her mind right now, if it weren't for the boss's constant yelling through the microphone, as well as the constant state of panic Hana witnessed through the monitors.

"Special move…" Wait, was that Genji's voice?

"Hey, hey, stay back. I said stay back, dammit!" Something hit the floor on the other end of the feed. Either he dropped his gun or the fear in his body made him defecate.

"Dragon's fire burst of righteousness!"

"No no no AGHHH-" Then the feed cut off. That was probably for the best.

"Dammit!" The boss slammed his fists against the table so hard that it cracked. If they didn't gag her, she would definitely take the time right now to say something clever. "Just what is going on up there?"

"Northern quadrant, where the hell are you?!" he yelled into the microphone. "Get to the C-sector and fend those guys off!"

"We can't sir. We can only fit so many people on the elevator at once!"

"The hell are you blabbering about?! Take the stairs, damn you!"

"The stairs on currently on fire, sir."

"What th- then grab the extinguisher and put it out! Don't just sit there on your asses!"

"The extinguisher is uh, also on fire, sir. Um, don't ask why, sir." Oh for Pete's sake, these men were going to give him an aneurism.

That's the eighth quadrant sealed off by fire. And to think this place had such top notch security, never once did they even consider fire to be a significant threat, especially underground.

He slammed another button on the keyboard, switching the monitor to the feed connecting to a hallway. A distant crackling noise crawled its way through the speakers.

"Hey Genji, would you mind NOT setting everything on fire? So that I don't y'know, burn to death?" Wait, that was McCree's voice!

"A sea of flames, within my hands. They cower in fear at the might of the dragon, but are easily felled by its limitless strength. Remember this day, the day where the mighty dragon returned, roaming the land in search for meaning. The journey is paved by fire. Dragonfire. Dragonfire!" Genji appeared on the screen. The way he danced made her want to think otherwise.

"Boy, you are having way too much fun with that." McCree appeared on the screen, following his cohort. He bent down to pick up what appeared to be a lighter lying on the ground. Hana had to lean forward to confirm her suspicions. Did he really just ignite ten cigarettes at once with a lighter he just picked up, when literally the entire corridor behind him was ablaze?

While Hana watched in confusion, the boss grinded his teeth together. What kind of firepower did those guys have on them? He couldn't even get a proper visual on those Overwatch cronies, not with so many of the cameras destroyed.

Dammit. This was not going good. And to think he and his soldiers had been armed to the teeth. He turned his head towards some blueprints, detailing a massive, box-shaped machine. He grabbed the remote trigger lying on the table. If worse comes to worst, this right here was his trump card. Yeah. No way those guys won't back down once he-

"What do you think you're doing?" Even Hana nearly jumped when a familiar black assassin appeared right beside her. She didn't even hear him walk in. When did he enter the room?

And why was he wearing a top hat?

Judging from the boss's facial expression, he wanted to ask the same question, but knew he'd probably regret it if he did.

"R-Reaper, I was just uh-"

"Give me that." Reaper snatched the trigger out of his hands. It only left Hana more confused as to what it was for. She would try and glean even just a little information out of them, if only it weren't for the gag.

Reaper looked up as gunshots could be heard upstairs. "You said you had this all under control."

"S-Sorry, it's just uh, those Overwatch guys are storming the base right now, we have all those generators set but-" he stammered, but froze when Reaper pointed a shotgun at him. "Wait, wh-what are you doing?!"

"A favor's a favor." Hana flinched as the sound of the shotgun blast exploded in her ears. "But I'd kill you regardless, since you're just that incompetent." She looked up to see the man's body flying backwards and hitting one of the monitors with enough force to crack it entirely, before falling limp to the ground. While Hana found the stench of blood repugnant, Reaper found it invigorating.

"Consider yourself lucky you're not on my list, kid." A chill traveled down Hana's spine as he turned towards her with those menacing black eyes. "But if you do get in my way, then you're already dead."

At that moment, the steel door caved in, passing right between Reaper and Hana and embedding itself deep into the far wall. Interestingly enough, burn marks were present on the mangled door.

Genji stood (or posed, rather) at the doorway with his right hand outstretched. "Your evil days have come to an end, villain! Prepare to face the dragon's wrath!"

"Just shoot him already!" yelled a voice from down the hall. The stream of fire that launched towards Reaper did surprise him somewhat, but he didn't think too hard on it, and instead let the flames pass right through his stomach. Black smoke billowed from the hole made by the fire

Two other people entered the room. Oh. It was that damn ingrate, and… someone he didn't recognize. Related to Genji, maybe? Whatever. He'd find out later.

The rest of his body transformed into dark smoke as two gunshots fired. Instead of splattering his brains all over the place, they phased right through the smoke constituting his head. Then he drifted upwards, seeping into the air duct on the ceiling.

This wasn't over. The next time they met, it would be on HIS turf.

"You have not seen the last of me, villain!" Genos ignored the other cyborg and rushed to Hana's side, easily severing her binds with a controlled burst of fire.

"Are you alright, Hana?" he asked.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie. For one, her legs and arms felt numb, and she could probably eat a horse right now. But at the moment she was just glad they came for her. "Thanks, Genos."

Genos smiled. Hana hid the shocked look on her face, and quickly pulled out her phone to take a picture of it before it disappeared.

Now Genos looked confused.

"Sorry. That's the first time I saw you smile since we met."

"Strange. I thought you dropped your phone at the clothing store." Hana returned Genos' confused expression.

"What? No I didn't, I had it with me the whole time. I couldn't reach it since they tied me up. Not that it mattered. I doubt the thing could get a signal from down… here." In Genos' hand, she found an exact replica of her phone. Besides the screen displaying an SOS signal, it sported a large crack on the screen.

"Hang on, just what in tarnation's goin' on here?" Now it was McCree's turn to be confused. "We followed that darn signal all the way down here, and now you're telling us you never sent one?"

"Well, I guess…" She really didn't know what was going on.

"But if that's the case, then who-" Genji would have finished that sentence if the room didn't suddenly start shaking. The lights flickered, a few papers fell to the ground as well as some bits of shattered glass.

McCree was first to ask, "Uh, what's that sound?"

Reinhardt left the convenience store with Saitama, who had a grin plastered onto his face. He had probably gotten the biggest sale on udon cup noodles in his entire life. But then again, the discount didn't really matter when someone else was paying for it, but it still felt good regardless. Reinhardt simply pondered how someone like him could be so happy over a meal that costs 98¢.

In the middle of thanking his friend, Saitama suddenly felt the ground shake. Reinhardt must have felt it too, the way he looked around with a serious expression on his face.

"Huh? What's going on?" Saitama wondered out loud. Some people outside turned their attention away from the pajama-wearing hero in favor of the strange rumbling noise.

Reinhardt's gaze shifted intensely. "Brace, yourself, comrade. I do not like the sound of this… "

At the UN headquarters, a certain musician passed the time by listening to some beats, his head bouncing to the rhythm. Just being here already made him bored. No way would those suits stop him from enjoying some hip hop. Even Zarya had to agree that dressing up in tight clothing (courtesy of Symmetra) and sitting on rock hard chairs felt blander than the end of a stale loaf of bread.

But when the vibrations in his ears matched the ones below his robotic feet, that was when he noticed something was up. He removed his headphones, but that didn't stop the shaking that rattled his feet.

"What in the… The heck is going on?"

Mercy would be arriving much later than she hoped. She had to perform a last-minute operation on someone, just because they thought challenging an army of cacti to a wrestling match would be a good idea. The parents repeatedly thanked her for the operation, unaware she left a few needles stuck in his behind to serve as an important reminder that some ideas are best left untouched.

The peaceful train ride to New York turned chaotic pretty fast, when it came to an abrupt stop. Mercy almost fell from her seat, while others were thrown off of them entirely. As Mercy began to assist the elderly in recuperating, she noticed something strange.

If the train stopped, why was it still shaking?

Darkness filled the room. A long table stretched from one of it to the other, surrounded by several chairs. On certain days they would all gather, so they could discuss certain events, and the integrity of their organization as a whole. Today was not one of those days. For at the very far end of the table, one man sat patiently in his seat. The sound of his elbow tapping against the table echoed throughout the empty room.

Even though the organization witnessed a steady decline throughout the years, he wished to change that. Together they formed a united front, and kept a certain goal in mind. That goal, of course, being the benefit of mankind as a whole. There was just one problem.

None of the humans seemed to understand that.

In fact, they did everything in their power to ensure that the 'threat' of Talon be stamped out entirely. They acted selfishly to the point where they would prefer money and games over power and fortitude, and that kind of selfishness even poisoned Talon at one point. And with the revival of Overwatch, that goal seemed even farther from his grasp.

The man clenched his right hand, the metallic outline glowing a deep blue. Yes. He could feel tremendous power flowing through him. But it was not enough. Not enough to give humanity its rightful strength. Humans were born weak, after all. But he wouldn't accept that reality. There HAD to be a way. A way for him to become stronger.

As he pondered this, a distant rumbling could be heard in the distance. He pressed his palms together and leaned on his fingertips.

"So it's begun… "


	10. Final Accelerant

Gone were the bustling streets that once constituted New York. Demolished were the bodies of vehicles strewn about its ruins. The skyscrapers once reached the heavens, but now they lay toppled to the ground, broken and crumbled. Interestingly enough, several buildings lay on top of each other, before ending at what appeared to be the burning bottom half of a spire.

And yet, those served as merely a hint of the total destruction that engulfed the Carpet City.

Even now, as the billowing smoke drifted into the sky, fire ravaged the ruined city, with flames pouring out of the shattered windows. Ashes of a once proud city slowly floated to the ground, the various items scattered about serving as their final resting place.

In all of New York, the headquarters of the United Nations seemed to have suffered the worst. The flags that represented the unity that they established now lay barren in a massive hole in the ground. Piles of glass and concrete lay at the bottom, and the tallest building formerly stationed at the front found itself split in two from the force of the fall. The remaining pieces lay tilted on the sides of the massive crevice, along with the corpses of several tourist buses.

And yet, despite all this, not one soul remained in the broken city to witness its unexpected demise. No would question the man-shaped holes littered throughout many of the devastated buildings, nor would they be able to question the massive fire pit billowing smoke in the central district. New York, once a bustling metropolis, now a desolate ruin.

The people of New York would see this as one of the greatest tragedies that ever befell them. Little did they know, it was only a beginning.

Fareeha stirred. As her eyes slowly opened, a massive migraine drilled at her skull. As the former security chief clutched her head, she took note of her surroundings.

She woke up inside of a tent of all things. The small cabinet stationed beside her bed contained various bottles filled with either a strange liquid or various pills, telling her this must be some kind of a medical tent. But why did she even wake up here in the first place?

Her train of thought came to an abrupt halt when the sudden urge to vomit overtook her body.

"Here, you'll need this." Without even a second thought, Fareeha turned to her left, and threw up the remains of her breakfast into the bucket. Only after a minute or so of hurling did she take note of the person holding said bucket.

"...Reinhardt?" For all his muscle mass was worth, it seemed even the bulky hero was vulnerable to sickness. He lay in the bed beside her, with only a large shirt and jogging pants. "Why… What's going on?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Reinhardt pulled himself out of bed, and unzipped the window. Fareeha nearly gasped at the sight before her.

At this distance, New York would be quite the spectacle. But just like the abridged version of a really good anime, there were so many things wrong with the presentation.

For one, several of the tallest skyscrapers were simply gone. Though she didn't have a clue as to their current whereabouts, she could spot several lying on top of each other, like someone had knocked them down. Part of her really didn't want to acknowledge the massive columns of smoke rising into the distant sky.

Things weren't that much better on the ground. Multiple tents identical to theirs had been put up over the field of grass, and dozens of nurses could be seen helping many patients into them. Though their interiors remained concealed, the sounds of painful groans eliciting from inside the tents made her think she wasn't the only one feeling the urge to vomit.

In short, it seemed that during her little nap, New York and its entire populace simultaneously decided to take a personal vacation to hell and back.

Fareeha's mind crashed at some point, and slowly she rested her head on her pillow, and placed a palm over her face. She hoped to god that she just had a really bad hangover, and nothing she witnessed actually happened.

"Bad day?" asked Reinhardt.

"Gee, you think?" Reinhardt returned a hearty laugh. Except laughing only made his stomach bug worse. A few seconds later he found himself throwing up into the same bucket.

"Ugh… ha… I guess this old man hasn't seen enough action yet." As Reinhardt zipped up the window, he lay back in bed with his arms over his chest. "But look on the bright side, Fareeha! At least no one died."

"Reinhardt, I just woke up inside of a tent miles away from New York. I don't even know what happened while I was out."

"Ha…!" Reinhardt almost regret laughing out loud, as he forced down the bile rising in his throat. "I guess it isn't every day New York gets hit by an earthquake."

Fareeha raised an eyebrow. "An earthquake?"

"Yeah. An earthquake. I heard the UN Headquarters took a pretty big hit."

"Why am I not bothered by that?" Still, the news did surprise her somewhat, even if she didn't show it. "So how did no one die?"

Reinhardt grinned. "Well, you see…"

* * *

Exactly three hours and thirteen minutes ago…

* * *

As the ground beneath it began to split apart, the high-rise building began to tilt. Those inside of it grabbed on to something, afraid they would die from the fall. Those under the collapsing structure ran for their lives. They preferred not to get crushed to death, but at the rate the building fell, it wouldn't really matter.

But a certain hero had no intention of letting that happen, even if it did bite into his lunch time. The screaming pedestrians inside and outside the building suddenly disappeared in a blur of red and yellow, before they found themselves somewhere outside of New York. And then they starting throwing up on the newly mowed grass.

Saitama frowned. For him, the earthquake couldn't have been more inconvenient. He literally just finished heating up a cup of udon noodles when it hit. His growling stomach served as a painful reminder of that.

It was unfortunate, but he'd just have to reheat it after he finished his work here.

In the corner of his vision, Saitama witnessed a glass building tumble down, the sudden change in pressure shattering several of its windows. He made sure to empty it out before it hit the pavement, but he also went to the bathroom before leaving the collapsing building.

He also emptied out the building next to that one. It didn't suffer as much damage, but despite being much shorter, but several massive cracks bit into the thick concrete. Oddly enough, the building did look somewhat familiar.

Wait, weren't they all supposed to meet here or something? Well, not anymore he supposed.

As the ground continued to shake, more and more buildings capsized. He pulled out several thousand more people from the broken streets and the falling buildings, before dumping them somewhere outside of the city. At first he attempted to keep count of all of them, but that tasked proved somewhat stressful. It didn't help at all that some of these people dressed really weird.

As the hero lightly jogged through the streets, he gave his gloved hand a curious glance. In all honesty, doing this kind of hero work felt a little strange. True, as a hero he helped to keep the populace safe, but he usually did that whenever he came across a random monster lurking about. While he did rescue some people from time to time, this was probably the first time he did his hero work without actually punching anything. The concept felt strange to him. Alien, even.

Did he really miss punching things that much? It wasn't as though he could just punch the earthquake away.

While he pondered these thoughts, his eyes caught what appeared to be a massive airship hovering in the sky. Maybe he should ask that guy with the red goggles if he could catch a ride on one of those. They looked really cool. Plus, it would help him clear away these thoughts. He did often find himself in the air, but it didn't look nearly as relaxing as- whoops!

The bald hero became so lost in his thoughts, that he failed to take note of the lone croissant lying innocently on the ground. It met a grisly fate as a red boot grinded and crushed it into the depths of oblivion.

Meanwhile, Saitama spent a second thinking about how he had lost his footing over the remains of a perfectly good croissant. The next second the sheer momentum sent him flying.

Saitama lost track of time as well as himself. He didn't know how many minutes he spent flying, nor did he know where he would land, since everything in his vision spun like an F6 tornado. However, the bits of metal and concrete getting stuck on his clothes did tell him that he crashed into one or two things.

The experience reminded him of his first time on a carousel. Yes, the carousel may as well have been powered by a tortoise on high heels. Yes, the color schemes matched as well as a lion getting groomed by someone dressed like a hot dog. But at the very least he didn't have debris flying into his mouth.

Eventually the hero crashed into a truck advertising lemon juice. His speed decreased enough that the truck didn't just split in half, but it still managed to put a sizable dent in the side. At first he thought the truck would fall, but he completely forget about the sixteen hover wheels attached to its bottom.

As several people gazed at him in awe, he looked around to see where exactly he crashed. At that moment Saitama spotted something that made his eyes widen.

One of the buildings he emptied was suddenly missing more than half of its foundation, no doubt due to his little accident. The remaining support beams creaked under the weight, unable to hold the building by themselves.

This caused the spire to tilt with so much force, that when it crashed into the adjacent building, it ripped it off of its foundation entirely. A few seconds later, that building began to tilt as well. Saitama could only watch as it smashed another building off its hinges.

Everyone began to panic as probably the biggest domino line in the history of domino lines wreaked havoc and destruction across the reaches of New York.

As he got to work emptying out those buildings, he hammered his brain for a way to explain this to the brass that wouldn't get him roasted.

* * *

Fareeha stared at Reinhardt wide-eyed. Half of her refused to believe the complete crap that came out of Reinhardt's mouth. At the same time however, she herself knew that with Saitama thrown into the equation, the realms of possibility didn't just extend; they disappeared altogether.

"I should've known he had something to do with this." she finally admitted. "Did he really evacuate every single person in New York?"

"Yes," Reinhardt replied, before adding, "...and gave them brain trauma. But that's beside the point."

At this point, someone entered their tent, causing Reinhardt to grin in recognition. He gazed at the bed next to his, as he slurped on his udon noodles.

"Oh hey, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Only a mild brain brain hemorrhage, thanks to you." Saitama didn't know what that meant. She probably dreamt of something weird.

"Don't think too hard on it, Saitama. She's just had a rough day." Oh right. He did almost drop her, now that he recalled.

"Yeah. Sorry about botching up that whole rescue thing. I guess it's my first time."

"It is?" asked Reinhardt. "Didn't you say you were a hero?"

"Well, yeah, but I usually spend my day punching any monsters or telemarketers I come across. Not evacuating cities."

"That sounds glorious, if you ask me!"

"Yeah, no. It gets boring after a while." In fact, he hadn't come across any monsters since he first arrived here. Not that it would've mattered; none of the monsters he encountered proved to be strong enough to give him that rush of excitement; the feeling of adrenaline that made him feel alive. Sometimes he really missed that feeling.

A few people entered the tent as he pondered these thoughts.

"Oh, hey Genos." He waved to the stoic cyborg. He appeared to be equally as glad to see him. Someone familiar followed him inside. "Hello Haaaaaaa… na."

The young gamer did not look very good. For starters, tears and holes reigned rampant across her blue suit, and her skin no longer sported that light hue. Instead she looked as though she just had the worst sunburn in her entire life, her face completely red as well as the exposed parts on her suit.

"Wow, what happened to you?" Reinhardt stared at her wide-eyed. It seemed he wasn't the only one surprised by this sudden development. "Did you forget your sunscreen?"

"Ha ha. Very funny." Her words came out more harshly than she thought. Not that she cared. Right now she just really wanted to lie down and pretend today never happened.

Another person tipped his hat as he entered. The fact that he dressed like a cowboy didn't bother Saitama very much. After fighting so many monsters who ranged from beans with arms and legs to malformed vehicles, seeing someone dressed like the west actually felt pretty normal. Only when the heroes started dressing even weirder did he start to worry.

However, just like Hana, he got sunburned to the point where parts of his hair were missing entirely, and his clothes were more or less beyond the point of saving.

"This is your master?" He stared at him rather skeptically. "He looks like he got that costume from the dollar store."

Saitama frowned. "You look like you traversed the Tottori Sand Dunes with a giant magnifying glass floating over your head."

"Touche." A third person entered the tent. Though he initially didn't recognize him, he did pique his interest more than the cowboy. After all, he didn't encounter many cyborgs other than Genos, save for that gorilla guy.

As he observed the glowing green stripes that lined his metallic body, he gazed at his right arm, which bore a suspiciously similar hue to Genos'.

"Genos," he pointed at the cyborg's asymmetrical appendage. "I think he stole your arm."

"Fear not master. His name is Genji; a cyborg like me." Genos elaborated. "He and I had an incident, so I let him borrow one of my spare arms for the time being."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No." Both Hana and McCree simultaneously deadpanned. Saitama gave them a weird look.

"Why? What happened? Actually, now that I think about it, where were you guys when that earthquake hit? I circled the city a bunch of times but I never saw you."

The sunburned duo continued giving Genji a dirty look.

* * *

Approximately two hours and thirty minutes ago…

* * *

"So. Genji. 'Member what I said about bein' moderate when using that flamethrower of yours?" asked a rather agitated McCree.

"...Yes?"

"And do you now understand why, I was askin' you to be moderate in the first place?"

"...Yes." Now that the rescue team had taken out every Talon goon and rescued their captive, getting out of there should have been a relatively easy task, if not for the erupting flames that engulfed the corridor ahead of them. And judging from how loud these flames crackled and popped, it would be fair to assume that the fires continued on into the next room.

"Well, Genos, since it's your first time on a mission, let this be your first lesson. Rule number one: never, under any circumstance, lend any dangerous equipment to anyone, unless you're absolutely **sure** they can handle it responsibly." Much to the cowboy's surprise, he pulled out a notebook from seemingly nowhere and began jotting down those exact words.

"I thought the first rule was to never lose sight of your equipment?" asked a confused Hana.

"No, no, that's for frontal assaults. This is for bunker raids."

"We have guidelines for bunker raids?"

"We do now. Rule number two: if there is an inferno blocking your way to the exit, with no means of putting it out, then your second best option is to wait for it to die out."

"We're seriously just gonna wait here?"

"We wouldn't have to, if **someone** didn't burn all of the fire extinguishers!" McCree shot Genji a dirty look. He shrugged in response.

"My frame is relatively fire resistant. I could run up to the surface and get some outside assistance." Genos offered.

"Not sure that's a good idea right now. Dunno what's happening on the surface. But I know that something's goin' down. Might be best if we camp out here for the time being." It didn't exactly come to him as a surprise that Genos would be resistant to fire, since he shot it out of his palms most of the time, but all that rumbling earlier did set off his nerves.

Genji raised a hand. "I have an idea on how we might escape."

"If it involves blasting your way through the ceiling, then forget it."

Genji lowered his hand.

Genos took a good look at the ceiling. McCree did make a good point about the rumbling; if an earthquake hit New York, then this underground bunker would protect them for the time being. In fact, that was probably the whole point of them constructing it in the first place. Unfortunately the cyborg didn't want to wait, especially when lives were at stake. If they couldn't escape through the corridor, then he would just have to make his own exit.

"I have an idea." McCree turned towards Genos. For some reason he felt more comfortable hearing those words from Genos rather than Genji.

"Shoot."

"If I blast my incinerators through the ceiling, then we should be able to climb our way out."

"Wh- That's literally the exact same thing Genji suggested!" Did they have some kind of a pseudo-mental link going on here?

"I can manually control the degree and volume of the fire generated by my incineration cannons to prevent any casualties." argued Genos. "I also have a PhD in escaping underground bunkers."

McCree raised an eyebrow. "Is that last part true?" Unceremoniously, Genos reached into his notebook and handed a slip of paper to McCree.

In really nice cursive, it read, "The University of City Z has conferred upon Genos the degree of escaping underground bunkers, with a major in escaping underground bunkers that are on fire, with all the rights and privileges thereunto appertaining. Approved by the board of people in expensive clothing upon recommendation of the faculty on this twentieth day of April."

Everything from the detailed lining to the golden stamp at the bottom yelled in a really smooth voice 'legitimacy'. Even as he read it over twice he wondered just what kind of hell Genos' world went through for something like this to exist.

"...Well I'll be damned." McCree handed back the slip of paper after reading it over for the third time. "What's the story behind that?"

"Army of cactus monsters. They challenged other heroes to a wrestling match in an underground bunker. The Hero Association sent me in to deal with them, but only after I got this certificate." The cowboy looked at him as though he drank the quenchiest cactus juice in the desert. "I can tell you more about it later if you wish."

"Yeah, later. When we get out of this bunker." Although in truth, Hana really did want to know the story behind that. Genos seemed like such an interesting character. "Besides, we need to see how the others are faring."

"True that. I guess I'll leave this one to you, Genos." McCree stepped back, but not before he said, "Oh yeah, and when this all blows over help me finish those guidelines."

"Very well." He may as well have them perform those special practices while he was at it.

Once Genos found a good spot, he crouched and extended both of his arms. Then they transformed, the flat of his palm shifting into the end of a barrel. The two incineration cannons glowed orange and aimed at the ceiling diagonally, much to Hana's glee.

McCree took that as a sign for him to step back. He stretched one arm in front of McCree and the other in front of Genji.

Wait a minute.

Where did Genji go?

The cybernetic ninja really lived up to his title, when he disappeared from McCree's sight despite standing literally three inches away from him. In the very next moment he found him standing beside Genos, with his right arm outstret-

Oh shit. Was that bastard seriously going to-

"Wait, don't-"

" _ **Incinerate!"**_

" _ **Ryūjin no Kōen!"**_

McCree did the second best thing and pulled both him and Hana back, as the combined blast erupted like seven solar flares. They shielded their eyes from the massive glare, but that did nothing to protect them from the intense heat, even though they stood directly behind the two cyborgs. They two felt like they jumped in a tanning bed powered by a nuclear reactor.

On the surface, everyone had enough problems worrying about the ensuing earthquake, so no one could really expect a massive beam of fire to suddenly come shooting out of the ground, decimating the concrete entirely. Many obeyed their flight instinct and fled the scene. The foolish few pulled out their phones and recorded the spectacle, only to regret it a few seconds later when they temporarily went blind.

Just being near the flaring beam caused the paint on nearby vehicles to turn pitch black from the intense heat, seconds before they exploded into a heap of fire. Fire hydrants capsized entirely, and the flood of water that erupted seconds after evaporated near-instantly. The beam of fire passed several buildings and even torched a few, before it reached into the skies, painting over its gentle blue hue with a vehement orange.

Only those from a distance would be able to witness this sight; viewing it from up close may as well have equated to staring at the sun through an observatory. Those that did witness the broad spectacle would remember it as the day the skies themselves caught fire. The two Overwatch agents huddled down in the bunker would remember it as the day Genji nearly screwed them over for the umpteenth time.

After a few seconds, the beam of fire slowly disappeared, eventually fading into nothing and allowing their vision to return to normal. Plumes of smoke drifted into the air while bits of concrete tumbled down the hole. Despite the attack having already ended, parts of the hole remained alit, no doubt due to the magnitude of their combined attack.

Genos gave the gaping hole a confused glance. His counterpart, despite looking impassive, struggled to contain the emotion behind his mask.

"It was magnificent, was it not?" A trace of excitement etched into Genji's voice.

"I suppose." Genos frowned as he looked at his hands. "Though I could have sworn I tuned down the incinerators."

"A mystery for another day, I suppose." Genji quickly clapped out the fire in his palm.

Meanwhile, two sunburned agents laid quietly on the floor, with smoke drifting off of their sunburned bodies. Both of them simultaneously swore they would take Genji's sword and cut off his arm.

* * *

"I couldn't resist." were the only words offered by the cybernetic ninja, much to the displeasure of the sunburned victims. Reinhardt excitedly wanted to comment on just how epic such an attack would be, but the glare given by Fareeha made him shrink back.

"One day. Just one day." Everyone shifted their gazes towards the entrance of the tent to find an angry Swiss lady standing there. "I leave you all for one day, and this is what happens."

"Angela? What happened to you?" Fareeha gave her friend a once over. Angela initially traveled to Nepal earlier in the week to deal with an outbreak, only to get called to New York from the conference.

Though the doctor had quite a fierce reputation for looking quite fair at her age, that clearly was not the case right now. Not only did her white leather jacket sport dozens of new holes, her once unblemished skin now displayed several red spots. In short, the doctor looked as though she had been through a cheese grater.

"You too?" asked McCree.

"Yes. Me too." Angela frowned. At least now McCree could sympathize with someone.

"Well, look on the bright side Angela, at least it'll be much easier to _spot_ you in a crowd!"

"Dude." Saitama gave him the stare. So did several other people in the room.

"...Sorry." Fareeha shook her head at her friend's antics.

"So where were you when the earthquake hit? Didn't you say you would arrive later than expected?"

"I did indeed. There was an incident that demanded my attention. Then after that…"

* * *

Somewhere around three hours ago…

* * *

"Attention passengers," A deep voice echoed over the speakers. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, the train ride will be delayed until the rumbling stops. Please remain calm until then." This elicited a few groans from the other passengers, while others simply elected to remain silent. Angela wanted to remain calm, but that proved to be near impossible with so many questions shooting through her head.

She looked outside the window, where the majority of New York could be seen. Why was there suddenly an earthquake? Were the others okay? Sitting around here wouldn't help ease her worries, but leaving the train car right now might cause a panic. Or even worse, prompt others to follow her out.

But then again, she and her cohorts had gone through so much together. At this point, something a little as an earthquake wouldn't be enough to take them down. She'd just have to trust them to organize a relief effort without her. She would offer her medical expertise as soon as she arrived.

Her mind shifted back to that kid who got all those needles stuck in him. His name was Randy, if she recalled correctly. If only he hadn't gone and tried to do… whatever it was he hoped to accomplish, then maybe she would have gotten to New York sooner, and-

Her thought process self-destructed, as a sudden blur of baldness flashed in her vision for just the briefest of moments, before the train car split in two. Those onboard the train hurriedly looked for something to hold on to as the two halves tilted downwards, having lost the support from the bottom. The passengers seated in the adjacent cars lurched in shock as they suddenly shifted downwards from the uneven weight.

In her moment of shock and awe, Angela had the misfortune of sitting close enough to the gap for a mangled croissant to strike her in the face. Why a croissant of all things, she would never know, for the force of the wheated delight sent her close enough to the severed gap, enabling the temporary vacuum generated by the ghostly force to pluck her out of the train and into the air, knocking her unconscious as well as sending her body spiraling into the air.

From the ground, it was quite the majestic sight; an angelic figure soaring through the sky, accompanied by a flock of birds.

In reality a certain doctor just had the most unfortunate series of events to date, and a bunch of hungry pigeons just happened to spot the mangled croissant soaring near her.

* * *

Everyone stared at the doctor with a curious glance, save for Saitama, who continued eating his udon noodles in an effort to seem uninvolved in the conversation. He didn't know that was a train he hit until just now.

Maybe if he offered her some croissants she would ease down once he explained to her what happened.

"So, what happened next?" Hana's question elicited a sigh from the doctor.

* * *

Sometime between two and three hours… ago…

* * *

Angela rest atop some kind of an art museum, devoid of any visitors due to the sudden tremor. However, a certain avian had no intention of letting her rest in peace. Not with so many bread crumbs spread across her.

To Angela, something small just prodded her face.. "Mhmmm, five more minutes…" As the pigeon searched for more bread crumbs to feed on, the rest of the patrons arrived.

In just a minute, the annoying prods turned into an onslaught of pecks and bites, tearing apart her clothes and jabbing at her skin. The doctor suddenly shot up, flailing her arms around like an ungraceful ninja.

"Ow, ow! Get away you stupid pigeons!" It took about five minutes, but eventually all the pigeons left, now that the breadcrumbs had been consumed, leaving an injured and irritated Angela behind.

Great. Now she just had to find out how to get down from here.

Before she could ponder how she could accomplish that, another rumble shook her feet. Another earthquake, perhaps?

Angela froze at the sound of two massive objects crashing together. When she turned to where the sound came from, she could not believe her eyes.

Where several of New York's tallest buildings should have been aligned, they instead **rested on top of each other.** Kind of like those dominoes she played with so much as a child. The sight alone made her reconsider testing that strange medicine. Unfortunately, with the way the pseudo-domino line continued, with an apartment building smashing into an adjacent mall, this didn't appear to be some kind of a hallucination.

And only when the domino line reached the street right across the tower she rested on did she realize that she herself stood directly in the path of the massive dominoes.

After several consecutive crashes, a tall spire tilted in her direction, its shadow looming over her comparatively small frame. She should have fled at that moment. Maybe jumped off, and hoped that someone at the bottom would react fast enough to get a safety net in order.

Instead, she just sat down, and let out a resigned sigh. Even though her death seemed imminent, dying like this was just way too stupid for her to take it seriously.

Now she really wished she left more needles in that kid when she had the chance.

* * *

Something something… twenty minutes…

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait." Fareeha probably wasn't the only one to notice the anomaly in Angela's story, but she needed to confirm it regardless. "If that building fell on you, then why are you still here?"

McCree scratched his burnt beard. "Maybe she asked those pigeons to help her down."

"No. I didn't want anything to do with those pigeons." No one in the tent could really blame her for that. "Besides, it didn't matter. Because…"

* * *

Uhhhhhh…

* * *

...A sudden beam of fire blasted from below, forcing her to shield her eyes from the blinding light. If this was the transcendence from here to the afterlife, then at least she could appreciate the flashy performance.

For once, she let the inner bowels of her imagination roam freely, no longer restricted by the confines of this reality. If death would grace her like this, then the very least she could do was relive her dream one last time.

She imagined a bald, yet heavenly figure descending from the sky on a golden chariot, his figure complete with a set of abs that combined all of the perfect traits of Chuck Norris, Morgan Freeman, and Gabe Newell. The reins of the chariot were pulled by horses with a coat so pure they would put the Akhal Teke to shame. From the depths of the light, the chariot landed on the rooftop. His arm, garbed with the silkiest of cloths, reached out to her. Angela accepted his hand.

But alas, just like all of her dreams, this one died in the pillar of fire that painted the sky orange. No golden chariot descended upon that roof. No horses with their pure coats of fur came to her. No heavenly figure, whose anatomy put her valkyrie suit to shame, came to retrieve the doctor. Instead, the light died down, dashing any and all hopes of a glorious transcendance. Instead, the fire shot into the sky, leaving behind the beheaded remains of the spire.

Angela opened her eyes, and blinked a few times. She almost cried, as her heavenly descent into the afterlife faded into ashes.

She knew she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up.

* * *

At this point in time, the other agents of Overwatch accepted the disastrously powerful beam that decimated the subterranean area of New York. Besides, they had seen stranger things. Or at least, that's what they thought, until Angela began reminiscing her 'glorious transcendence.' Now everyone knew why the woman dressed like an angel. Except now they wish they didn't.

"...Was that part really necessary?" McCree had almost choked when she started going on about her 'vision'.

"A woman can dream, Jesse." Angela huffed.

"Angela, let me tell you right now, that some things are best left unsaid." In his mind, he couldn't help but picture the 'heavenly figure' she described like an oiler version of George of the Jungle.

The thought alone made him shiver.

"Hey, McCree." Saitama's expression got serious all of a sudden. "Don't insult a woman's dream. If I didn't pursue my dream of becoming a hero, then I'd still be broke and looking for a job right now."

"Yeah. Not cool McCree." Reinhardt crossed his arms. McCree didn't really understand why he was being antagonized all of a sudden.

Fareeha gave her bedridden friend a strange glance. "Reinhardt, why are you even agreeing with him?"

"I dunno. I haven't said anything in a while."

Angela, who really didn't expect receiving so much support for her 'dream', wasn't sure how to respond, except for, "Thanks… I guess?"

"I must know, Mr. Saitama. What is your dream?" asked Genji. He seemed extremely interested in knowing, the way he clenched his fist like that.

"To be a hero, I guess." Saitama shrugged.

"Very noble of you, Mr. Saitama. Though I shall always pursue the path of a ninja." Genji posed, causing Hana to cringe.

"And why is that?"

"Tell me, do you know what a hero is?" Genji pointed a finger at him. "Heroes will share their sake with other people. But ninjas will steal it all for themselves. I want to steal all the sake!" Genji pounded his chest with his fist.

"...You and I have very different definitions on what a hero is." deadpanned Saitama.

"Yeah, where the hell did you even get that Genji?" asked Hana. At least Saitama proved to be more knowledgeable when it came to being a hero.

"During each month, everyone stockpiles their coupons, waiting for the right moment. The stores will try and distribute the coupons evenly." Saitama jabbed a thumb at himself. "But I want all the coupons for myself!"

Hana stared at him slack-jawed. Why she even had faith in him in the first place, she did not know.

"So, uh, what does that have to do with being a hero?" McCree stood there confused. Even if it did have zero relevance, he at least wanted to try and get a better grip on Saitama's character.

"Villains, monsters, they'll all steal from the supermarkets. That's against the law. However!" The hero raised his fist into the air. "Heroes will never stoop down to their level! It's a completely different story when us heroes use these coupons at the supermarket, is it not?!"

Silence reigned throughout the room, save for Genos, who scribbled furiously in his notebook. He could not afford to let his master's words of wisdom go to waste.

Then slowly, Reinhardt clapped. Genji followed soon after. Pretty soon the entire tent burst into applause, save for Fareeha, who, at that moment, believed that these people had finally lost it.

"Psst. McCree. Why are you clapping?" asked Hana.

"Why are **you** clapping?" McCree couldn't find a proper response for either question.

Fareeha could only shake her head. If this is what the strongest man inspired in other people, then she dearly hoped that she wouldn't get pulled into their pace. Even Angela, who dealt with the others' antics on a regular basis, somehow found herself becoming inspired by the words of the so-called hero.

"Everyone, everyone." Fareeha called their attention once the clapping down died. "It's been a really long day. I think I speak for everyone when I say we could all use some rest, so why don't you all head back for now."

"Do you need some aspirin?" asked Angela.

"No. Just need to lie down."

"I think the two of us need more than a rest at this point." Hana pointed at both her and McCree, before leaving the tent.

"I should probably attend to those two. As soon as I fix up myself, that is." Angela followed them out.

Saitama saw Genos leaving, and asked, "You have somewhere you need to go, Genos?"

"I need to speak with Hana regarding something."

"Oh. Okay." Genos then left the tent, closing the curtain behind him.

Though they all left on Fareeha's word, they each silently agreed that the inspiration left by Saitama would leave them thinking through the whole night.

"Saitama. I need to talk to you about something. Please, take a seat." Saitama gave her a quiet glance. Then he placed his empty noodle cup on the counter, and took the stool beside her bed. He shifted a little, clearly not comfortable with the size of his seating.

"So. What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked. Fareeha lay flat on her bed, staring silently at the ceiling. Today had indeed been a strange day. In fact, it would be surprising if she encountered anything weirder after the events of today. But the strangest feeling was how accepting she was for all of it. Did Saitama see things this way?

Well, that didn't matter right now. If anything, it made things a little simpler.

"Jack said something interesting to me earlier, before all of this. I've been thinking about it ever since. As you already know, we are quite a small force. We've increased in numbers over the past few months. At first I thought, given enough time, we could amass our forces, and in doing so gain strength through numbers. But now I know that will never work. Especially when groups like Talon are rapidly pulling ahead."

Saitama only listened. In his head he made a mental note to remember that Jack was the guy with the red goggles.

Fareeha sat up so she could look Saitama in the eye. "I've always wanted to become a part of Overwatch, ever since I grew up around it. It's hard to describe, but I guess seeing my mother in uniform inspired me. The world may see us as criminals, but I've always believed that we can restore Overwatch to its full glory. I still do."

"...Okay. But why are you telling me all of this?"

"Saitama. Whether you know it or not, you started something the moment you appeared in Caligo. You being here alone has changed the rules of the game entirely. We can't go back, even if we wanted to. That's why we have to stand together, and brace ourselves for what happens next."

She paused for a moment, contemplating what she was about to say. "That's why… I need to know now if you'd like to stand with us." Fareeha bit her lip. Maybe saying this wasn't as easy as she thought.

"...Oh, if you're talking about that conference thing, Reinhardt already told me all about it." Saitama jabbed his thumb behind him, where Reinhardt rested. He waved at her innocently.

"You already-" Fareeha should've known Reinhardt would do something like this. "...Jack told you not to tell him, Reinhardt."

"True, but he didn't tell me to not not **not** tell him." Fareeha was too weak to even argue at this point. "Besides, it's all good. He gave me the A-OK."

"He did?"

"Yeah, I did. Honestly, I kind of wish you guys told me beforehand, and I still want to find a way home." Saitama frowned, but his expression lightened. "But I think you guys are pretty cool. And besides, I still have to pay back Reinhardt for buying me food."

"You're joining us because Reinhardt bought you food?" Fareeha threw her head back onto her pillow. She didn't even try to understand him any more. "You know, sometimes I wonder if there's even a brain under that bald head of yours."

"Don't call me bald. At least I'm not into harem anime."

"What the- WHO TOLD YOU- ugh…" Fareeha suddenly didn't feel so good. The yelling caused some bile to rise up in her throat, but through sheer will she forced it down. "You know what? Just forget it."

Unbeknownst to the trio, a certain gray cyborg stood outside, listening in to their conversation. His lips curled into a smile, before he walked away.

No matter what would happen, he would trust the decisions of his master. Nor would he interfere with the path he chose for himself.


	11. The Price of Strength

Akande lay kneeling in the center of the quiet room, resting both palms on his knees. Along the circular boundaries of the room many mirrors reflected his meditative stance. The soundproof walls would ensure absolute peace. He would need it for what would happen next. Here, he prayed he would learn the secrets to becoming stronger, for the sake of humanity.

"Mr. Doomfist, sir," Akande frowned as the door opened behind him. He specifically ordered this room to remain off-limits. "There's some interesting news involving our recent assault on New York. I thought you might-"

"Leave me." he ordered with a harsh tone.

"But sir-"

"I said LEAVE!" he yelled through clenched teeth, without turning around to even acknowledge the words of his subordinate. The soldier scurried away in fear, but thankfully not before shutting the door behind him. Akande could attend to their strategies at a later time.

"Satisfying, is it not? So many pawns, easily at your beck and call." a silvery voice cooed into his ear. Akande had prided himself for his enhanced senses, nurtured for so long in the field of combat. But not even for a moment did he hear her enter the room.

"Alira…" He would never forget that name.

"You're the first, Akande. The first to truly embrace the hierarchy of this world. They may think that it is an era of peace. But the strong have always decided the fate of the weak. The weak don't even choose how they die." She directed her voice towards him. "You look so mighty with that gauntlet of yours, Akande. And yet you hold it back, choosing instead to be the cattle, and not the wolf. Why is that, I wonder?"

"There is no choice in the matter. I am but a human. Humans are weak. This gauntlet isn't nearly enough to change that." He heard something like a low snicker from the person standing behind him.

"Indeed, humans are frail. It's so easy to pull those strings. I find it amusing just how much havoc can be unleashed by severing those threads. And yet," Akande heard footsteps. It seemed they had their backs facing toward each other. "...you seem conflicted, Akande. You were so determined to undo their weakness. What has changed, since then?" His breathing hitched.

"Humanity will always reject the greater good. They choose to act on the needs of the individual, and not the whole. They need someone to guide them in the right direction." He clenched his gauntlet. The power that flowed through him suddenly felt so insignificant. Knowing that certain death awaited him should he turn around made him feel so powerless. "Armies are powerful, but they cannot act as one. Money can manipulate, but it does not give you inner strength. Inner strength is a given, but you can only push the human body so far."

"And you have accepted this reality?" she asked, a hint of interest in her tone.

"I have done all that I could to become stronger." He gave his gauntlet a sorrowful glance. "I must know, Alira. Why does someone as powerful as you choose to remain hidden in the shadows?"

"You flatter me, Akande, really. I am strong, that much is true. And there is a reason why I chose to speak to you. Because unlike them," Pain shot through Akande's back, as something sharp dug straight through his augmented skin. His body toppled forward, falling flat on the ground. "...you would rather surrender your weakness, rather than embrace it. You see it as an obstacle, not who you are."

"Augmentations… training… all useless." He coughed up blood just trying to speak, but he couldn't let the pain overtake his body. Through clenched teeth, he spoke. "Still… far too… weak!"

"Mhm." Was it pity, or annoyance? At this point he couldn't tell. Everything in his vision began fading, and his body felt extremely numb. Whatever shot through his body must have struck something vital. He knew he was dying. Such is the fate of the weak.

Despite his failing vision, he noticed something drop in front of his face, beside the gathering pool of blood. Its strange webbing consisted of a purple hue, and along the ends long nubs extended out.

"What is… this?" he asked, despite his throat clogging up with blood. It was a miracle he was still alive.

"The path to become stronger." she explained with a low voice. "Eat it."

Akande obeyed without a second thought. It wasn't like he had anything left to lose at this point. And if she spoke the truth, well, all the more reason to do as she told.

Unfortunately he ran out of strength to even bring forth either of his arms. The gauntlet felt as though it weighed a ton. Pitifully he crawled forward, his legs just barely moving. Then he chomped on the strange object off the ground, and pulled it into his mouth with his tongue before violently chewing. Despite the bizarre taste and the blood threatening to suffocate him, he chewed and grinded it up, before swallowing it.

For just a moment, the pain stopped. But when that moment passed, it suddenly felt as though a thousand needles jabbed into his body, each one monumentally more painful than when he had been stabbed in the back. This pain was unlike anything he had ever endured.

After a few seconds, his body began convulsing erratically, his dark skin taking on a menacing hue. One by one parts of his body expanded outward with a loud crunch, his veins glowing as he became larger with every second.

He screamed as something thin and crooked exploded out of his trembling shoulders, before they wrapped around his right arm before burrowing into the cortex of the Doomfist. The gauntlet reacted to the sudden intrusion violently, suddenly glowing brighter and brighter, its encompassing energy surpassing impossible limits.

All the while, Alira stood there and watched as Akande's teeth sharpened; the prelude to an earthshaking roar that shattered all the mirrors. The gaping holes she made in his back sealed up immediately, and the blood that collected on the floor turned into dust. Satisfied with her work, she disappeared entirely.

That one minute of hell changed Akande forever. Because now, he was no longer weak.


	12. Colliding Ambitions

Reaper sat on the couch, his arms spread over the ledges. The assassin then let out a resigned sigh.

Things in Talon had become rather hectic lately, with the incidents revolving around New York. Judging from everything that happened, he couldn't help but wonder.

It certainly was an odd favor for Sombra to call in, infiltrating one of their own bases. He didn't mind it that much, because the head of the operation was certainly not worth what they paid him, and he didn't put that mech pilot on his list either, mostly because he never really met her.

Besides, there wouldn't be any point in prying about her plans for the future. The woman enjoyed amassing a vault of information, and yet found the very idea of sharing it abominable.

He did learn a few things from his excursion, however. At this point he couldn't deny that Overwatch's influence grew stronger every day. With the events of Caligo City, no doubt more than a few people would be willing to change their opinion of them.

Reaper frowned under his mask. That day had been especially agitating for Talon's head engineers, who initially planned for the Omnic Titan to retreat once it caused enough damage. Though he found it somewhat amusing to see their faces when they learned their beloved weapon of mass destruction had been literally shattered into millions of pieces by some unknown force.

If anything, it proved that Overwatch would stand in his way no matter what. Eventually he would have to come face to face with them, but for the time being he would relax.

"You're still wearing that stupid fedora?" Just when he thought he could get some shut-eye. Widowmaker sat on the edge of the sofa, her back facing towards him.

"First of all, it's none of your business. Second of all, it's a top hat, **not** a fedora."

"If you say so." She shrugged. She did find his recent choices of attire somewhat interesting, if not amusing. "So, is something on your mind?"

"Nothing new, if that's what you're wondering." Despite only a few days passing, the events of New York threw pretty much everyone into an uproar. "Though I did hear Arashi recruited some new faces."

"Bien sûr. The forces of Talon grow ever stronger." Widowmaker smirked at the thought, before her lips curled into a frown. "Though the current state of Talon's leadership is somewhat concerning, I must admit."

"So you noticed it too, huh?" For someone like Lacroix, it didn't exactly surprise him. "I'd have known if those big heads had been working on those earthquake generators. It's even weirder how they managed to get them under New York."

"So you didn't know, then."

"No." he bluntly replied. "I hold a seat at the table, after all."

"True. But if I recall correctly, you did travel to New York despite not receiving any orders. Is there any reason for that?" A hint of suspicion sunk into her tone.

"Nothing much. Just had a few loose ends to tie up." Those ends of course involved him indirectly interfering with the operation. Lacroix would probably press on it, so he changed the subject. "Ran into a few Overwatch agents along the way. They had another cyborg with them. Didn't recognize him."

"I thought you memorized all the faces of Overwatch?" Widowmaker raised an eyebrow.

"This one was new. Don't know much about him, but be wary just in case." Reaper turned his gaze towards the sofa chair beside the couch. "That includes you too, Sombra."

Seeing Sombra uncloak herself on the chair did surprise Widowmaker somewhat, but she didn't show it, instead preserving her deadpan stare.

"Buenos dias my edgy amigo. Sharp as always." Sombra started clapping, really slowly. Then she flicked a finger at Widowmaker. "You need to step up your game, little spider, before edgelord here starts to take the lead."

"Sombra." hissed the sniper. "Snooping as usual, I see."

"Is that really such a surprise?"

"...Non. I suppose not." That didn't mean she felt okay with it. Not that someone like Sombra would care. "Besides, Reaper here informed me that you went on a little trip. What were you up to, Sombra?"

She grinned in response.

* * *

The control room emitted a dark purple hue; a result of the mysterious gas engulfing the entire control room. Mei and Hanzo lay still on the ground, their bodies having succumbed to its effects.

Across the room rested Tracer, along the wall of ice that should have prevented anyone from entering. Her plasma pistols lay empty on the ground, and her warm clothes now donned several new tears, some made deep enough to cut her skin. Her ability to rewind helped to negate the effects of the gas as well as her injuries, but from the way her accelerator blinked, she wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.

"Well, if it isn't Sombra." Tracer coughed out, earning an arrogant grin from their unlikely assailant.

"Ah, so you do remember me. How nice of you." she teasingly replied. Only she could wear a gas mask and still sound sarcastic.

Tracer furrowed her eyebrows. "How could I, after I found out you were the one who stole the blueprints for the teleportation matrix?"

"Well, it's good to know my reputation precedes me. But enough about me." Sombra crouched down to her level. "There's someone who has caught my eye recently. He has something I want. And if I'm going to get it, I'm going to need your help."

Tracer looked at her strange, her face etched with confusion. "Why do you need my help? You're the master hacker here."

"True. Everything is connected, these days. But this is a special case. Overwatch has already involved themselves with him. They've already caused several ripples. I need to act now before they turn into a tidal wave."

"And just to make sure you stay motivated…" Sombra pulled out a small vial of a purple substance. "Let's just say this isn't just sleeping gas."

Great. She suspected just as much. If Sombra wanted things to play out like this, then she most likely held the antidote. And with the state she was in, there was little she could do about it, unless she complied to whatever her demands were.

"I'd hurry up and decide if I were you," warned Sombra. "Because in a few minutes, you won't remember this conversation." Tracer bit her lips.

"...Fine." It came out as a whisper, but Sombra heard it loud and clear. Seeing the hacker so giddy made her blood boil. "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

"Nothing much, really." Sombra replied with a grin.

Widowmaker frowned. "Funny. That's the same thing Reaper said."

"Oh? Did he now?" Sombra pressed her fingers to her lips in mock surprise. If this bothered Reaper at all, his mask did a good job of hiding it. "I guess it's a shame. That the two of us got to go out and do exciting things, while you were stuck here playing hooky."

"I was given specific orders to make sure things stayed in line here, at headquarters." Widowmaker slipped herself off the ledge so she could properly face the annoying hacker. "I suppose it is to be expected, with the sudden lapse in leadership. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Sombra?"

"No, surprisingly not." She felt a wave of agitation come over her. She constantly wanted to sate her desire to hold all the pieces. "I'm pretty sure everyone here is aware of that room he locks himself in for like 80% of the day."

"Lemme guess. You tried hacking in." Reaper glanced at her. She could almost feel that smug expression under his mask.

"'Tried' is right. I don't think anyone among the council understands the purpose of that room."

"Well, either way, I need to consult him later." He paused, before adding, "About his leadership status, not that room he commissioned."

"That will not be necessary." The three of them reeled back in shock, when the very man they spoke of somehow appeared right in front of them. Even Reaper, who usually kept a stoic expression plastered on his face, seemed surprised at his sudden appearance.

And if anything else, he looked worse for wear.

For one, the few clothes he wore now donned several tears. Bruises lined themselves across his entire body, and blood dripped from the many cuts that endorsed his arms and his shoulders. And above all, his once pristine Doomfist now looked scratched and worn, and parts of it sported thick dents. In short, he looked as though he had just fought an army of genetically enhanced gorillas, all of which wielded rocket launchers.

"Are you… okay?" Sombra was somewhat hesitant to ask, but Doomfist didn't seem at all bothered by her words.

"Better than okay." His voice carried a new confidence compared to the silence that overtook him these past few weeks. "I realize that my behavior has brought concern to you all. It is understandable."

"Well, if anything, you sound like you're ready to get back in the fight." Right now, Reaper felt the same way too.

"Correct. Come, let us all head to the meeting room to discuss our next move. Talon shall now expose to the world the dangers that await it." No one could understand why he felt excited all of a sudden. But one thing was certain, if someone as passionate as Doomfist spoke with such vigor, then they could be certain he wasn't lying. The world would be ill-prepared for what they had in store for them.

All the while, Akande covered his shoulder with his gauntlet, the fibers threatening to burst from his skin. When the time came, he would unleash his true form. Then they would know true terror.


	13. Sweet Dreams

Armies of robotic warriors lay strewn across the barren fields, their mangled corpses decimated by a force beyond comprehension. Their metallic corpses stretched for thousands upon thousands of miles. From a distance, the land itself resembled a sea of metal. Numbers became irrelevant in the face of an unstoppable force. Like grains of sand tossed against a raging tsunami, they soon found themselves swept away in a mere instant.

As their duel raged on, the two combatants could no longer discern the minutes between the hours. Those who had the opportunity to witness the battle recognized it as an eternity, for they knew not when this legendary bout would come to a conclusion. There could do nothing except watch the two beings rampage across their what once served as their beloved home.

Here, at the place called the center of the universe, they clashed. Red blurs swept across the sky, striking down all the dark vines that threatened to coil around his body. As darkness painted over the magnificent palaces and statues that symbolized culture and unity, one man struggled to vanquish all the darkness that lingered, determined to leave not a single trace of it behind. Orange ashes drifted into the air as a flurry of punches decimated them into oblivion.

Yet the forms of darkness continued to lash at him. It seemed as though the shapes they could assume counted into the millions. Vines, swords, and claws alike worked in perfect unison, snapping and slashing at the strongest man. For each one he destroyed, ten million more took its place.

Saitama took a moment to catch his breath. Blood streamed down from not only his mouth, but from his torso as well as his limbs. Many scratches and tears littered his suit, his belt buckle shattered.

Hopelessness. Fear. Desperation. The hero should have felt a shred of at least one of those. But no. In spite of all the death and destruction caused by this monstrosity, he never felt more alive in his entire life.

The sea of darkness retreated, and shrunk inwards before exploding into a towering form; the very form he recognized when they first began their battle. He nonchalantly brushed aside his antlers as ridiculous. He went so far as to call his flaming eyelashes cliche. But if this battle had taught him anything about the dark figure standing before him, it was that the Shogun of Sorrow earned his title. Never before had he fought a villain so powerful.

The looming figure spent several seconds catching its breath. Unlike before, when his form reached into the heavens and beyond, he now settled for just a little more than half that height. That still proved to be enough to tower over him by several miles, but it remained clear that the two god-like beings were evenly matched.

" _It has… ha… been a millennia since I fought like this. Not since that foolish samurai went on hiatus."_ He rotated his shoulder, a sickening pop erupting soon after.

"Heh. I could say the same thing, Aku." Saitama clenched his bleeding hand. Aku lumbered over him in curiosity. "It feels like it's been forever since I fought so seriously. I thought this day would never come, but now that it has, I'll treasure every moment of it."

"I don't know who this samurai was, but he must have been very brave to challenge someone as strong as you. But if there's someone who's going to take you down…" Saitama pointed a thumb at himself. "It's going to be me!"

Aku shifted backwards, seemingly amused by his speech. He didn't care. Because this was the greatest day of his life. Being a hero never felt more invigorating than it did now.

But then… he started to laugh. In a few seconds, he began cackling madly without relent. Saitama frowned. What was so funny?

" _Haha! You certainly have a unique way of looking at things, hero."_ Aku jabbed a sharp finger at him. _"You may be strong, but you will never defeat the likes of me."_

"What? Why not?"

" _Why not, you ask? Because… none of this is real!"_ Aku bellowed with laughter, his madness reaching the heavens. What did he even mean by that?

With a horror-struck expression, he realized what he meant. And now he wish he didn't.

"No… No!" Saitama clutched the sides of his head. This couldn't be fake! Every single bit of it felt so real! And yet…

" _Deny it all you want, hero. But the fact is, I'm just a figment of your imagination!"_ Aku bent forward tauntingly. _"If you had a writer who didn't slack off so much, then maybe this wouldn't have happened."_

Saitama dropped to the ground on his knees, with his palms scraping the dirt. Just when he thought he had it all, just when he thought he regained everything. The armies of robots, the shifting darkness, it all just felt so real that he couldn't help but get caught up in it. So why did it have to end now…?

It became too much for him to bear. He slammed his fist against the ground in frustration, causing every continent to capsize. In the distance he heard Aku laughing.

" _So. You've decided to give in. Ironic, really. The samurai had more resolve than you, foolish hero. And I killed him in one punch!"_

One punch…

For so many years, he fought countless monsters, all of which he defeated with just one punch. Hell, sometimes they ended in zero punches. If one-shotting his foes was all he was good for, then…"

" **Killer Move: Serious Series…"** Saitama slowly stood up, and made a fist with his right hand. The sheer energy alone caused several rocks to hover.

Saitama leapt from the ground, shattering the earth. Aku looked at him lazily, as the hero flew closer and closer to him.

" **Serious…"** Deep inside, he knew he was tricking himself. He couldn't bring himself to be serious any more. With an empty heart, he threw a regular punch. It only destroyed forty mountains.

But it did nothing to Aku, as he shapeshifted at the last second to avoid the shockwave. As Saitama fell, he witnessed the dark mass converging into one point, before taking the form of a winged creature. He would have continued to fight there. He would have used his other **Killer Move** to finish him off. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Just a few words had taken away everything inside of him. He barely even felt his body hit the ground.

Saitama barely noticed Aku flying away into the horizon, as everything began to fade. There was really no point chasing him now.

" _Ha ha! Poor hero. No matter what universe you go to, whether it be from a videogame or anime, you will never find what is yours."_

" _We will meet again, hero! Hopefully before they finish season two!"_

And then everything disappeared.

Saitama woke up. The jet remained mostly quiet, aside from the silent humming of the engines and the barely audible noise from the monitor mounted on the seat in front of him.

"Wha… huh?" Did he fall asleep? He didn't know which to blame, the boring samurai show or the seats which were apparently made out of memory foam. He preferred the latter, mostly due to how much of a godsend they were compared to the stiff futons back at his apartment.

He gently placed his palm against his forehead. Either way, that had been a pretty surreal experience. It felt like he dreamt about something important, but he couldn't quite remember.

To his right Reinhardt snored rather loudly. Dare he say he snored louder than he ranted. That cowboy dude from earlier slept with his legs propped up on the seat in front of him, where the doctor quietly dozed. Beside her Genji sat with his legs crossed on the chair, almost like he was meditating. Fareeha slept with her helmet in her lap, and no doubt Jack sat alone in the pilot's seat, with the autopilot still on.

It must have been quite the day for them, if they could actually manage to sleep through Reinhardt's snoring. All he really did today was sleep, eat and save a bunch of people from impending doom. Which essentially made up his daily routine. He got used to it after a while, but for them it always seemed to prove to be a challenge. He couldn't deny that he envied that part of them.

He arched his head back to see his disciple still sitting in his seat with a blank expression. Not exactly surprising, considering he didn't even need sleep. One thing did bother him, though…

Why was he wearing that sweater?

Hana, who snored in the seat beside him, bore that same insignia on her clothes, interestingly enough. Either he got played into advertising for her, or he just got a new taste in clothing.

This world was weird.

Saitama let out a yawn. Well, he didn't really feel like thinking about it right now. Not with so much fatigue plaguing him. Leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's you. That was his motto.

The hero leaned back his chair, rested his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. Might as well enjoy some shut-eye while it lasted.

"Arriving at: Watchpoint Gibraltar."

Saitama rolled out of his seat. "Dammit!"


	14. What Makes A Bad Demoman

Along the Mediterranean Horizon, the sun slowly gained momentum as it traversed the sky. For some it signaled the start of a new day. For others it meant their extended curfews would finally come back to haunt them. A certain wingwoman did not remain amongst either of those, at least not in terms of position. Because she definitely would have shared an expression with those from the latter.

That could have been avoided, if someone on the jet had actually bothered to close the shutters. But, as fortune may have it, the rising sun peeked over the horizon, leaking between the shutters and spilling onto the face of the former security chief. Unconsciously, she ignored it, shifting around in her seat to escape the cascade of light. This slowly became more impossible, as the blinding light increased in intensity, to the point where the entire side of her cabin flooded with light. Eventually she tumbled out of her seat rather groggily, feeling like she had woken up on the wrong side of her non-existent bed.

As she ungraciously lifted herself off of the floor, the realization hit home. Her gaze shifted towards the other empty seats. A few items of interest had been strewn about, like a candy wrapper and some popcorn, but other than that her cohorts were nowhere to be found on the ship. Even that bald moron had gotten up before her.

Great. Just great. It was probably deep into the afternoon by now. Usually it was the other way around; aside from Genji and Angela, she would usually be the first to rise before the others. A lot of times this elicited a rather harsh scolding from the officer, and then a long lecture about the responsibilities of being an agent of Overwatch. That went double for McCree and Hana.

No doubt with the tables turned, those two would probably pounce at the opportunity to take it out on her. Just thinking about what they would say made her shiver. 'Oh, disciplined and conditioned like you, huh? Whaddya have to say about that now?' 'Looks like the early bird wasn't early this time, huh?'

Yeah, no.

At the very least, she could use the events of the last two days as an excuse, but she was too tired to do even that. Right now she just really didn't feel like dealing with them. Besides, would anyone really notice her absence at this point?

And so she climbed back into her seat, and closed her eyes.

That is, until a massive crash erupted from outside, practically throwing her out of her seat. An attack? System malfunction? She pondered those possibilities as she stormed outside, nearly tripping on her loose jeans.

She made her way down the stairs, covering her eyes as the sun's glare finally caught up to her. In front of her she could see Winston waving two signal wands towards the left. In front of him, Angela, McCree, and Symmetra watched with gaping expressions, whereas Reinhardt cheered with his hands in the air.

It took her a few seconds to understand why.

And frankly, anyone would be shocked to see their massive satellite dish suddenly bent inward, with some kind of a fist-shaped dent in the center. The girders creaked loudly with the bending metal, but the satellite stopped its collision course, albeit rather stiffly.

Only for it to resume it once more when two beams of fire separated the girders farthest from the cliffside. Molten metal dripped onto the roof where the satellite was situated, and the heated beams of steel pulled apart as the massive structure tilted backwards. Then it plucked itself off the roof entirely, before tumbling down the cliff. A few cracks were heard as the metal struck against the rocks composing the cliffside, soon followed by a loud and heavy splash.

Saitama scratched his cheek. To be honest, that probably would have gone better if Genji didn't suddenly jump in, but whatever.

The Overwatch agents stood there silently, save for Reinhardt who was more intrigued by Genji's posing. Human curiosity could be wonderful at times. Except this moment served as one of the few situations that accelerated that curiosity into a burning bewilderment. Obviously they were not expecting Genos' so-called master to be this strong, as this was the first time they witnessed it. They sincerely thought Winston was joking when he told him to punch the satellite dish into towards the cliff.

And thus, the same question burned through all of their heads: Just who on earth was this man?

Sadly survival instinct tends to take precedence over curiosity. Such was the case when they witnessed an angry Fareeha storm her way towards the gorilla seemingly responsible for this whole ordeal. Symmetra slowly walked away, while McCree and Angela took a quicker pace. Reinhardt just picked up Genji with his huge hands, who still continued to pose with his incinerator. Unlike the rest of them, he had yet to witness the full potential of an angry Fareeha.

Saitama didn't really know what was going on, but if this was going to end up like that interview with Blizzard then he should at least pretend like he wasn't eavesdropping.

"Winston I- What the hell is going on here?!"

Winston lowered his wands and gazed at her innocently. "Well, um, remember when I said I was going to replace the satellite dish with the new one?"

Fareeha cocked her head. "Yes? That was a few months ago, if I recall correctly. I never actually got word on why you postponed it for so long."

"Yes, well, I may have miscalculated the cost." Winston bit his lip. "We, uh, ended up spending most of the money for the demolition crew on the shipping. Thankfully we have our own demolition crew!"

"Winston, that's not the point. That **was** the new satellite dish." Saitama froze. He gave Genos that same look when he accidentally clogged all the toilets in the Hero Association Headquarters.

"Pardon?"

"Winston, you live on this island. You never once noticed Torbjorn replacing the satellite dish?"

"Uh…"

"Did you even bother to come out of your laboratory?"

"The… cameras weren't working." He replied weakly. "I, uh, guess we should contact the insurance company."

"Well, gee, I wonder if they'll accept 'bald incarnations of mass collateral' as a legitimate reason."

"I take offense to that." Fareeha's eyes then proceeded to gather up mystical energy, their combined entities working full-time to burn through Saitama's soul. "Nevermind. I take that back."

"What's all the commotion about?" What a great time for Jack to finally come out of the pilot cabin. It didn't take long for him to notice the anomaly. "Where the hell did our satellite go?"

Winston raised one finger awkwardly. "Uh…"

The remains of their satellite array chose that exact moment to suddenly detonate, the sudden explosion startling everyone. Nearly everyone. The 'demolition crew' was only surprised it didn't explode sooner. Smoke began drifting into the air off the coast, presumably from where the satellite landed.

No one knew what Jack was thinking at that moment, for his visor did a very good job of concealing his facial expression. However, no one said a word when he did a full 180॰ and re-entered the jet, and lied face down on his seat.


	15. The Price Of A Few Tons of Peanut Butter

A turquoise light slowly passed over the pink phone, the streams of data being transferred into the mainframe. Beside the computer, a certain architech watched closely as she monitored the screen. Even with the bits of code sliding past the screen at an alarming rate, she did not falter. The scanner didn't pick up any anomalies in the data. Normally that would have been a good thing. But there was an exception for every rule.

She knew something was off the moment she heard that Hana actually installed the emergency program into her phone like she had requested. Looking at it now, she found it difficult to believe that someone managed to make a perfect duplicate of her phone. Only someone of a rare caliber would go so far to match the small clumps of dust trapped in the screen protector. But for what, exactly?

Wait… there. In comparison to the rest of the data, it's small size barely registered, making it difficult to notice. But it was definitely there. Knowing this, she tapped a few buttons on the scanner, pulling the virus out of the phone. Now she just needed to make sure no other viruses lingered.

"How is the analysis proceeding?" Symmetra pretended not to be surprised. Extreme destructive potential, yet stealth appeared to be a practice of equal importance when it came to the cyborg known as Genos.

Symmetra turned around, and bowed slightly. "Greetings. I was not expecting your presence here." Not a lie. "As for the analysis, it should be complete within the next few minutes. I hope you don't mind waiting."

"I don't. Thank you once again for doing this." Genos bowed in return. Powerful and destructive sometimes, but those characteristics didn't break his mannerisms. No wonder Jack thought so highly of him.

This might be a good time to bring _that_ up.

"Tell me Genos. Are you knowledgeable of the Vishkar Corporation?" Genos blinked once. Most likely an indication of surprise.

"I have, actually." He has? "I browsed the internet in my free time. During that time I encountered several advertisements about the Vishkar Corporation. I was quite curious about what I learned."

"Strange. I do not recall you having a cellular device on your person."

"I can browse the internet using the visors built into my irises." Genos pointed to his eyes. So those weren't just for show? His cyborg enhancements were more intuitive than she initially thought.

"That's quite an interesting prospect, Genos. In fact, I might have to put that idea into my notes later." A computer built into the form of contact lenses. Now that was a project the architechs could work on. "So, what have you learned about Vishkar so far?"

"That the company has developed the revolutionary hard-light technology. When I heard that the academy's 'architechs' were capable of manifesting complex machinery from light, it sounded too good to be true."

She couldn't exactly blame him. Not only was developing the equipment for hard-light technology extremely complicated, but only select individuals could wield it, and even less who could harness their true potential.

"Well then, would you like a demonstration?" Genos nodded politely.

Symmetra began weaving her arms across each other. Though the stiff, more methodical approaches taken on by the other students produced results through constant repetition, her constructs took on a smoother form, one less vexed and bromidic. Only with absolute focus could this be achieved.

Slowly a blue light began to take form between her fingers. At first, it took the shape of a triangle. Then a hexagon. In just a few seconds, more and more sides appeared, until each of them became indistinguishable. Then the curves extended outward, gaining depth with each motion.

She handed the construct to Genos. A basic, yet simple construct that could keep the human mind distracted for possibly hours on end.

Genos frowned somewhat. "Is this really…?"

"Simplistic, yes. But this design provides twice as much torque." She turned around to face the monitor. Her relaxation caused the streams of data to feel like a massive waterfall than a calm river. "Do not mistake us for a mere manufacturer of toys, however. The Vishkar Corporation intends to benefit all of mankind."

"Is that why you began working for Overwatch?" asked Genos.

"Indeed. You may see each of its members as an anomaly or oddity, but it matters not. Only the best and brightest are accepted into Overwatch. But you have something more, Genos." She took his silence as incentive to continue. "Your technology is impressive, Genos, but your resolve is perhaps even greater. I have seen it for myself." Yes, it could be argued that his actions in Caligo were… uncoordinated, to say the least. But she disagreed wholeheartedly. What Genos had that others didn't was efficiency. An efficiency that could only be found in the omniums.

"Is this an invitation?" the cyborg asked.

"More of a quid pro quo, really." She stared at her thumbs, pretending to be indifferent. "I ask not for the impossible, my friend. I merely have the hopes that great things can be achieved should be collaborate. It may sound cliche, but you and I have something that the other doesn't." Genos stared at the trinket in his hands, seemingly lost in thought. Just what was he thinking, behind that calm demeanor of his?

"Despite what you may think, no one has a greater sense of justice than my master. If you believe that I followed Overwatch because you and I shared the same beliefs, then you would be incorrect. I did so, because I trusted my master's judgement."

Symmetra frowned. The one person she hoped that wouldn't be brought up in this conversation. To call that man an anomaly would be a severe understatement. If anything, she had a much more difficult time getting a grasp on him than his student. His recent actions only made that more impossible.

Still, in light of the obvious flaws, Genos seemed to genuinely look up to him. Just what served as the foundation for that trust?

"Hm. It is a shame." She didn't disagree. She couldn't. At least not directly. "It is most preferable if potential were not left untouched, but such a thing cannot be forced."

"Perhaps. But I trust my master's wisdom more than my own." As he said those words, the scanner beeped. Good timing, too. She really didn't know how she would continue this conversation.

Symmetra pulled out the micro disk, and handed it to Genos. "One more thing. Please inform Jack about this development when you have the chance. No doubt he would be interested in this as well."

Genos nodded, before turning to leave through the corridor. Symmetra let out a sigh, and stared at the flat of her palm.

This was to make the world a better place. She needed to remember that. She had to.

And yet, the only person who didn't believe that was none other than herself.

* * *

Saitama shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as did the other agents. He and the other, more adult members had been hastily summoned to the laboratory for some kind of meeting. What exactly she intended to discuss remained beyond him, but the way she dragged Winston (he almost forgot his name in New York) all the way there, it must have been something important.

Their seats were arranged to form a small semicircle, with the shorter agents in the front row and the taller ones in the back. Which to him made perfect sense, since Reinhardt eclipsed basically everyone in height, save for Winston, who, well…

He sat in the corner of the room, facing the wall. Not only that, but Fareeha for some reason found it appropriate to surround him with a bunch of empty peanut butter jars. If she usually handled punishments like this with Winston, then clearly it was working because if he listened really closely, then he could hear the distant sobbing.

Beside her the doctor made herself comfortable, sitting up straight with her legs crossed. If he had to guess, hers was the easiest name to remember, mostly because A: her name had the word 'angel' in it, and B: she dressed like one too.

The others weren't so easy. But like many of the heroes at the Hero Association, discerning between them wasn't that difficult. Especially since one of them dressed like a cowboy, and the other may as well have been a Power Ranger.

It kind of felt like one of his old college lectures, to be honest, except every student also happened to arrive from Comic-Con ten minutes earlier, while also picking up a gorilla from the local zoo.

Fareeha, who supposedly played the role of the strict professor, cleared her throat to silence the room. Not that anyone complained. If anything, she actually broke the awkward silence that lingered.

"I suppose this should have been done sooner, but I think I should introduce our uh, 'guest.'" Fareeha gestured towards the hero. "Everyone, this is Saitama. Say hi, Saitama."

"Hi." He gave a small wave. Everyone greeted him at the same time, except for Winston who continued sulking. This of course resulted in a mish-mash of words that he did not understand at all. He'd have to ask for their names later, and a marker to write them on his arm.

"Good. Now, keep in mind that Saitama is Genos' master, and he will be treated as such. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, sure. He is pretty strong, I have to admit." The cowboy pulled out his cigarette and released a whiff of smoke. "Gonna have to call the fashion police on him, though."

"And he does seem to have a habit of breaking things." Saitama couldn't tell if Angela was being honest or condescending. "It's certainly not every day that a bald man is invited to one of our Watchpoints, then destroys a vital part of it within the first fifteen minutes of stepping on the platform."

"I said I was sorry…" mumbled Saitama.

"Don't think too hard on it, Saitama." Fareeha kept her hands behind her back and maintained her pose. "We may be few in number, be we've been through more than you might think. If anything, organized destruction is much more preferable to that which is unprecedented… Genji." She threw a harsh glare towards the ninja, who merely shrugged.

"Is the damage really that severe?" asked Angela.

"If you consider losing our only source of wifi as well as the ability to maintain a connection to the other Watchpoints, then yes. I suppose it can be considered severe damage."

Saitama shivered. To suddenly lose their wifi… the situation really was severe. "Isn't there anything that can be done?" he asked.

Fareeha remained silent for the next few seconds, before letting out a sigh.

"I wish. But like I've already said, our organization is fairly small. Add in the fact that we're just barely edging on the legal boundaries, and well, let's just say finances aren't our forte. At least not mine."

Saitama tilted his head in confusion. "Why? What happened?"

Fareeha gripped her arm tightly. "I apparently made the mistake of allocating 40% of our funds to stockpiling ammo. Guess what happened next? It's all gone in the next several hours. All because the team decided to use the laboratory for target practice."

Well, that certainly explained why the lab looked like it had been hit by a tornado full of cheese graters.

"And that's all." There's more? "Later, when I go on Amazon Prime, I discover that SOMEONE had put in an order for three tons of peanut butter. Three tons!"

Saitama's jaw dropped. Three tons?! Of peanut butter? That could not be healthy.

Wait a minute.

Peanut butter?

Oh.

If anything, he now understood why Winston acted the way he did. And here he thought HE had problems with bills.

"So, uh, did you manage to settle your financial troubles?" He almost didn't want to ask.

"Just barely." she replied with what he assumed was supposed to be a sneer. "We had to have Hana fake a student loan to pay for all that peanut butter." Okay, they REALLY needed to manage their funding better.

"Hey, for the record, it ain't just us." protested the cowboy. He even stopped slouching so he could make his point. "In case y'all haven't noticed, the power bill's pretty high too."

"Oh believe me, I've noticed. Actually, I've been meaning to bring this up. Why," She suddenly turned her gaze towards Winston. "...are all the doors eating up so much electricity?" The doors? Really?

"Hey, don't look at me! I calibrated the mainframe, programming the doors was Cawthon's job!" It was pretty impressive how the gorilla could switch demeanors within the blink of an eye. "Besides, how would I know how a doors eats up so much power by staying closed?"

Saitama was no engineer, but he was fairly certain doors weren't supposed to work like that. "Have you guys tried leaving the doors open?"

"Ha…! We tried that. Trust me, we did." Even from the back, Reinhardt still sounded like he sat right next to him. "But for some reason the doors aren't actually wired to the mainframe. Someone just got lazy and hooked them up wirelessly to the satellite. The faulty, one, of course."

"The satell- oh." So that's why it was so important. "So, uh, how did that go?"

"Exactly the way you'd expect it to." The cowboy person tossed his cigarette to the side, much to Angela's annoyance. "The big guy here spent a whole week prying his way out of the kitchen. For the next two weeks we had to get into the kitchen by crawling through the hole he made. Not that I blame him. I was stuck in that damn kitchen too."

"Stop acting like you're the victim here, McCree." scolded Angela. "I know you went to the kitchen just because you forgot your lighter there." McCree. His name was McCree. "And then you started drinking all of the beer when you realized you were trapped."

'McCree' gave her a look of surprise. "How'd you know I was drinkin' beer?"

Angela responded by pulling out a handful of used cigars from her pocket. Ew. "I happened to find _these_ in there. In the vegetable cabinet, no less."

Genji, who had been sitting in a meditative stance for the majority of the meeting, suddenly lifted his head. "You know, I was wondering why the cabbages tasted like tobacco…"

"EVERYONE SHUT UP! YOU'RE ALL SO NOISY!" Everyone, and that included Saitama, suddenly stiffened at her words. Her face puffed red, but it slowly turned to a shade of pink. "...Hi." she said weakly.

Saitama said nothing for the next few seconds. Nor did anyone else.

"So… now what?" For once, Reinhardt actually sounded quiet. Fareeha opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out initially.

"Well, I uh, suppose the next best course of action would be to buy another satellite." Fareeha bit her lip. "Dammit, though, that's not an option either…" Her mind probably went back to that whole financial thing.

Still, though, that did leave him to wonder…

"Uh, Fareeha, you mentioned your power bill was really high, right?" She nodded in response, albeit rather slowly. "And you can't leave the rest of the doors open without that satellite, right?"

"Where are you going with…?"

"Hey, Athena." It felt kind of weird, speaking to the ceiling like this. "How long will the power last?"

"Now plotting a course for the nearest snake pit."

"Wh- no, dammit, I mean how long will the electricity last?"

"Calculating… Approximately three seconds unti-"

And then everything went dark.


	16. The Deep End

The room remained relatively silent, save for the constant tapping of a keyboard. Winston sat at the table, wordlessly mashing away at the keys, while Fareeha simply stood behind him watching.

Why the reality of their situation didn't hit them sooner, she didn't know. Just finding her phone without tripping on something proved to be enough of a challenge. Though she had to admit, she never really did think the flashlight on her phone would ever come in useful.

"Backup generators online." The sound of Athena's voice elicited a sigh from the two of them. The generators behind them hummed to life, though not nearly as loud as they usually did.

"Well, that's one problem out of the way." said Fareeha, as the red lights illuminated the room. They would have to do for the time being. "Athena, how long will those backup generators last?"

"There are approximately 17,000 snake pits in eastern Australia."

Fareeha cocked her head. "...No, there's at least 25,000 if I recall correctl- what am I saying?!"

"Two days. At most." Winston didn't even turn away from the screen. "After that, well, let's not think about it for the time being."

"Would you like me to shut off the air conditioning to conserve power?" asked Athena.

"Yes. Please do that."

"If you'd like, I can also conserve some more power by shutting down the bathrooms."

"That's probably not a good- well…" Winston stroked his chin. He held down the grin that threatened to form on his face. "Maybe just shut down the one near Corridor 1-A."

"Corridor 1-A? Isn't that where Genji's room is?" Winston responded by slowly making a shushing noise. Fareeha rolled her eyes. "I don't suppose you could do the same for McCree?"

"Ha…! I'm not that evil, Fareeha. Not yet at least." Winston leaned back in his chair, the procedures now completed. His acts were mischievous, yes. But he really needed moments like these sometimes.

Sometimes he wondered what made him hit that recall button. The world did need more heroes, but lately he began to have these thoughts. After dwindling on it for so long, he came to realize that the team complemented his end goals more than he did. It felt great having them around. Still though, how could they proceed, with things the way they are right now?

"Winston? You there?" Fareeha waved his palm over his face, much to his annoyance.

"Do you remember when I went to that museum that one time?" he asked.

"Do you mean before or after you broke in?"

"After." Winston scratched his forehead uncomfortably.

"Then yes. You were putting up a few new attractions, if I recall correctly." Although if Winston believed that disheveled stuffed animals would appeal to the populace, then clearly he needed to retake his psychology class.

"Indeed. Reinhardt was helping me set up an aquarium, then he-heh, then he accidentally dropped his helmet in it." He would have continued, but all that came out was a bunch of obnoxious laughter. It took a minute to get it out of his system. "He… oh man, he had to swim to the bottom and fish it out and… and… "

He stopped. Why it didn't occur to him before, he didn't know. It wasn't something even fathomable before, but with recent developments, a new possibility now opened to them. One that could potentially solve all of their problems at once.

Fareeha looked at him strangely. "Winston, you froze up again."

"Fareeha, summon everyone to the rocket platform."

"Well, okay but… why? Did you think of something?"

"I'll explain on the way. Oh, and help me get this door open again while you're at it."

The massive doors creaked and groaned as they divided horizontally. A shame he had to ruin the doors like this, because that logo looked really cool. Hopefully that glasses-dude wouldn't charge him for the door, or even the satellite for that matter. Both looked pretty expensive to him.

Then again, this probably would have been prevented if those guys just went a little easier on their budget. It was pretty ironic really. So much expensive equipment around this place, and what did he have to show for it? A used TV? A worn out laptop? How could these people possibly have the same financial issues he did?

* * *

With a gentle tug of his palms, the blast doors separated entirely, causing a giant groove to form in the center of the metal. Genos then proceeded to push the huge cart through the corridor.

"Thank you once again for doing this, both of you." Saitama didn't know how to respond to the praise, so he just nodded. "Funny that Jack never mentioned you in the report. Then again, he always did enjoy being vague about things like this."

"Well, if I had to guess, he probably went with that whole 'seeing is believing' thing." said the cowboy. His name was Mickey, if he recalled correctly. "Seriously though. Those doors were built to withstand a nuke."

"Really?" asked Saitama.

"Yeah, not even kidding. I heard about it while I was wanderin' 'round these parts. Back when I was a cadet." McCree spat out his cigarette, and pointed to the blue strip running across the ground. "See that? That there's a hoverstrip. One of many, in fact. Don't need to get all technical on you; you can tell by the name what they're used for."

"Interesting. The ground appears to be equipped with some kind of magnetic metal. I assume they used it to levitate large objects." Saitama sighed. Here he goes again. "Combined with the hover pads laid laid directly above it, the strip can then generate a forward vector capable of moving the cart along a-"

"Kid, when I said I wasn't gonna go technical on you, it wasn't a cue for you to do exactly just that." Saitama felt a strange feeling well up inside of him. Was it… camaraderie? "But yeah, you've got the gist of it. In the good ol' days you'd see carts just like this one moving all over the place." McCree rested one hand on the large contraption. For a moment, he thought he saw nostalgia in his eyes. "That was a long time ago, unfortunately. It was annoying squishing my way through those hallways. But now? Now it's too damn easy, if ya ask me."

"I believe the term 'ghost town' is what you're looking for McCree." Saitama gave Angela a strange look. Why someone like her would actually encourage McCree's roleplaying remained beyond him, but he opted to be silent about it. "You wouldn't believe how many bright doctors roamed these hallways. Some of them were responsible for making this." Angela raised her staff. What did she call it again? The Coddy-Shed Staff?

"Where are they now?" wondered Genos.

"They've moved on, sadly." Angela lowered her head. "They're off doing their own thing, whether it be in a clinic or an auto repair. I keep in contact with them every once in a while."

"How are they holding up?"

"Good. Fine. Although sometimes I wish I they said more than just those two words" She crossed her arms. "If you're really curious, they have some pretty sustainable jobs. No doubt their families are holding up pretty well."

Saitama knew she didn't mean that. If that was truly how they felt about leaving, then it was impossible for them to mean what they said to her.

So was this how they saw Overwatch? How they saw heroes? They didn't just treat it like it was a symbol of peace. They treated it like it was their home. He never got that feeling walking through the halls of the Hero Association Headquarters.

Yes, it was a pretty pathetic excuse for a hero team up. But if they just put their heads to it, then maybe. Maybe it could work.

"Attention, all active agents. Agent Pharah has requested your presence at the rocket platform." Athena's voice echoed across the corridors.

"You guys have a rocket here?" asked Saitama.

Angela hummed. "We do, in fact."

"Well, why don't you dismantle the parts and sell them on Ebay?"

"If I had a week I couldn't list all the reasons why that wouldn't work."

* * *

A loud clang of metal resonated throughout the platform. The agents that gathered, those rogue and honorary, all stood around the strange metallic device that was dropped on the ground. They all bore different reactions; Hana just kind of stood there confused, while Fareeha, Mickey, and Angela all stared at the thing rather intensely. Reinhardt didn't didn't seem to have any clue what it was, and neither did Genji. Were either of them even paying attention?

Of all of them, Symmetra seemed to be the only one indifferent about this.

Jack wasn't present either, on account of the fact that no one wanted to interrupt him in the middle of his 'nap.' If he were here, then he'd probably elaborate on the device that resembled a giant burnt toaster. Or at least, that's what Saitama thought it looked like.

"Yo, Genos." Saitama lightly tapped his disciple's shoulders. "You have any idea what this is? Or what we're doing, for that matter?"

"One second." Genos glared at the hobble of scrap metal. He assumed this was how Genos scanned things. "It appears to be a mainframe of some kind."

"It's more than just that, Genos. This," Winston laid his foot on whatever it was supposed to be. "...is a lost piece of history."

"Winston… is that…?" Angela leaned forward. If he had to describe her expression, he'd call it curious. Or confused. Maybe somewhere in between.

Winston let out a sigh. "Yes, yes it is. I too, was quite surprised when I was given the full report on Watchpoint; Mariana."

Fareeha stiffened. "Watchpoint: Mariana? _The_ Watchpoint: Mariana?"

"Yes. The very one that fell victim to that seaquake." It was probably the first time seeing the gorilla so… resigned. He didn't know the history of Overwatch ran this deep.

"Now hold on- a seaquake?" Mickey stepped forward. "The official report says someone lost it and set off a bomb. You sayin' that was all a lie?"

"Yes. Yes I am. I think it's time you all knew the true story behind Watchpoint: Mariana." Winston cleared his throat. Looks like he's getting ready to tell the story of a lifetime. He better bite his tongue so he doesn't accidentally fall asleep.

"Watchpoint Mariana was established in May 20, 2066. It was built a few hundred meters above the deepest part of our ocean."

"Challenger Deep." clarified Genos.

"Indeed. The Watchpoint was built to not only study the slew of marine life residing at the bottom of our ocean, but also to uncover the many mysteries that lingered there. I never actually visited the Watchpoint myself, but I heard the research team made an abundance of discoveries. They were planning to send a copy of the data up to the surface, where the information would then be analyzed and released to the public."

"Sadly, that time never, uh, came. In the month after its establishment, mismanagement in Overwatch became so bad, that no one caught wind of the incoming seaquake. And even then, it would have been too late. The information never came. Everyone began to worry when communications with the Watchpoint ceased entirely. It was the week after did we finally send a rescue team, only to find it had collapsed off the cliff where it was built. Um, further investigation showed that in the very heart of Challenger Deep, a massive hole resides, which probably formed after the seaquake hit. It is likely that everyone onboard sank into the abyss, when the Watchpoint capsized. The people, the data, it all vanished without a trace."

"Okay, but I still don't get why they covered it up." Hana seemed pretty upset.

"It uh, took years of work to set up that Watchpoint, and even more to station the research team there." Winston fell back and sat on the ground before scratching the side of his face. "I guess it was easier for the UN to pretend they had an idea of what happened. Even to this day, no one knows what lies beyond that massive hole. No submarine is capable of going that deep, I'm uh, afraid."

"Did the rescue team find at least a clue as to what might have happened to the crew?" asked Genji. Winston adjusted his glasses before continuing.

"Numerous expeditions, all of which were both costly and demanding in manpower. Months passed by as the rescue teams searched, and in that time period, this," Winston gestured to the broken mainframe. "...is what they had to show for it."

"Doesn't look like much to me." Winston didn't seem at all fazed by Hana's comment.

"It took a lot of time, but we were finally able to salvage some data from the mainframe, with the help of Symmetra. It was of a report made by one Aizic Denmark. Apparently during one of his excursions, he discovered a strange metal buried at the bottom. One that bore a golden hue."

"Well that's uh, that's great and all, knowing there's buried treasure sittin' at the bottom of the trench." Mickey shrugged. He seemed unsure about the whole situation. Not that anyone could blame him. "But what's this got to do with our electricity problem?"

"Oh, it's no ordinary metal my friend. When I recovered what was left of Aizic's journal, it revealed that should the full potential of this metal be harnessed, the future of technology would immediately descend upon mankind. It was because of this that he referred to the metal as… australium."

Everyone looked at him in awe, before they began whispering amongst themselves. Saitama just opted to remain quiet. He didn't want to be rude, but he had completely lost him at this point.

"Agents of Overwatch, the objective is clear. We will go to the Mariana Trench. We will conquer the dark abyss that lies beyond the Challenger Deep. What happened to our colleagues stationed at that Watchpoint was indeed unfortunate, but we will, I repeat, we will fulfill their legacy by recovering that metal. So. What do you say?" He finished off his speech with a swing of his fist.

Saitama shrugged. "Okay." It's not like he had anything better to do.


	17. It's On The House

Hana hummed the intro song from 16-bit hero, as she gripped the helm tightly. She had been doing this for a while now, and it would be some time before they reached their destination. Still, acting as the helmswoman was a rather fresh experience. Plus, wearing the hat made her feel like an adult. Every now and then, as the Overboat (they really needed to stop letting Torbjorn handle naming their vehicles) beat across the waves, she steadied it now and then with a slight adjustment of the steering wheel.

Good thing all those hours of Subnautica actually paid off. Though if her crew required any form of diving past the 300 meter, then she'd back down faster than they could say 'Sea pigs are harmless.' No way was she exploring the deep end without a titanium plated submarine equipped with heat seeking torpedoes.

As she held onto her sailor's hat, the control board beeping.

She pressed down on the red button. "This is your captain speaking. Please state your business." Her voice imitated the tone of a stern helmsman, making her voice sound much deeper than it should have been.

"Are we still on course?" Winston tried to sound indifferent, ignoring the fact that Hana just sounded like a dying whale.

"Yes, we're still on course. I know what I'm doing, Winston." Why did he have to treat her like a kid?

"Alright, good. We'll uh, make sure things are going good on our end."

"What ARE you doing down there anyway? You all are helping to maintain the ship, right?" Hana thought she heard Winston choke for a second.

"Y-Yeah, we're uh, we're hard at work here, right guys?" The series of groans that echoed over the speaker sounded somewhat forced. "Hey, McCree! I told you to keep calibrating that subspace reactor!"

Subspace reactor? What? "Winston, we're on a boat. And the last I checked, it's not a dreadnought. I doubt it would need a subspace reactor to power it." Hana readjusted the steering wheel towards the left, when something else came to mind. "And for the record, why would you entrust McCree of all people to- hello? Is this thing working?" She tapped the speaker a few times, but all she got was static.

Dammit. She'd check things out for herself, but she'd rather not leave the helm unattended.

Just what was going on down there?

* * *

"I think we're clear guys. Carry on." The others gave Winston a blank stare, before they continued to eat their food in relative peace.

"Subspace reactor? Seriously?" McCree scoffed. "Learn to lie, first, Winston."

"It was a spur of the moment thing, okay? Now let me enjoy my peanut butter." The gorilla proceeded to do just that. As did the other agents who had gathered around the table.

Various assortments of food rested neatly atop the white cloth spread across the table, with each one serving a different kind of dish. Whether it be teriyaki or hotate, today's special apparently consisted of a plethora of seafoods. They had Genos to thank for making the most of the ingredients found in the kitchen. He even went so far as to provide rice and several drinks.

"This place is nice." Saitama's eyes drifted to the side, where several waves splashed against the side of the ship, coating the windows. "It's not everyday I get to go to a five-star sea restaurant."

"Ha…! I know right? Torbjorn was the one who insisted on making this thing." Reinhardt certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, the way he chugged down his beer. "Though I'm more surprised by the fact that your friend is a five-star chef!"

"I wouldn't say five-star. I mean, he is a good cook. I'd say more like…" Saitama tapped his chopsticks against the side of his plate, as he tried to come up with an answer.

"Four-and-a-half-star?" offered Angela.

"...Yeah. Something like that." It sounded just about right. As he took another bite of his onigiri, his eyes drifted towards the other end of the table, where the woman with the cool-looking glasses poked at her food. He found her behavior kind of odd. Actually, now that he thought about it, did he even meet her yet?

"Ah, that's Symmetra. I forgot to introduce you to her earlier." Interesting how easy Reinhardt could tell what was on others' minds. Saitama turned towards the hulking man in interest. "How do I put this? Ah, yes. She's the star of the Vishkar Corporation, a company that's famous for wielding hard light technology. You should see her use it sometime! It's something you youngsters would refer to as 'lit.' I guess in her case that's a bit more literal."

Saitama deadpanned. "I have no idea what that means."

"Just uh, try not to get on her bad side, okay?" Reinhardt's voice turned into a soft whisper. "She's pretty by-the-book, if you know what I mean. She was actually against enlisting you and Genos at first."

"Oh. Really?" He didn't know that.

"Don't take it too hard. She's actually taken a liking to Genos, even if she doesn't want to admit it." Reinhardt chomped down on his teriyaki.

"Well, that's good to know, but I was actually thinking about something else." Aside from the fact that he just broke his chopsticks, and needed a new pair.

"Oh, really? What is it?" Reinhardt passed his pair of chopsticks to him. Not that he needed them. His hands were far too large to use them correctly, so he just stuck to utensils.

"It's just that she hasn't really eaten since we set off." Saitama subtly pointed his new set of chopsticks toward her.

Reinhardt glanced towards the woman. "Actually, now that you mention it," Sure enough, her plate still contained a lot of food on it. It looked as though she hadn't taken a single bite yet. "...yeah, that is pretty weird. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if she was gonna eat her lobster or not."

"Oh. You noticed too, huh?" The two heroes turned to their left to find McCree sitting on his chair, with both of his legs resting on top of the table. "Sorry. Couldn't help but overhear. But since we're here, I'll give you a bit of insight Saitama, so listen well."

The bald hero didn't really know why the cowboy suddenly decided to go all stringent on him, but whatever.

"The rare species of the Symmetra undergoes an evolutionary change when faced with the presence of food. Should their rate of consumption increase, their body mass will multiply dramatically, hindering their ability to catch prey and defend points. To counteract this, they perform a ritual widely known as the 'diet.'" Saitama didn't really know why he had to speak so loudly. The shadows covering Symmetra's eyes served as a warning, but McCree stared up at the ceiling, oblivious to the malice being directed at him.

"Uh, McCree," Saitama whispered as silently as he could across the table. "I think she can hear you."

"I can hear you from all the way over here, Jesse McCree." Yep, he was right.

"Oh, I know. Just watched this documentary last week. Let's just say it gave me a bit of inspiration." Fareeha, for one, was surprised that the man actually spent his free time watching a documentary of all things. Angela seemed to have similar thoughts, the way she looked at him. "So, how did it sound?"

"Terrible. Your presentation needs decades of work before it can be considered something adequate." Symmetra slighted with a wave of her robotic hand.

McCree spared her not a glance. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

"I don't get it." said Saitama. "Don't a lot of people do that dieting thing?"

"Only if they're desperate." McCree pulled his legs off the table, so he could light another cigar. "I'd rather not get into the complexities of dieting, women, and all the such. It was a moment of inspiration, but I guess it's gone now. 'Sides, if I really wanted to understand all that, I'd have to be a psychic.

"Oh. Do you guys have psychics here?" The question came out of the blue, and the group didn't really know how to respond to it. Then again, in a room where a gorilla casually ate peanut butter among humans, someone like that wouldn't really stand out.

"Nah. Overwatch had a habit of picking up oddities, but not those kinds of oddities." The cowboy lazily glanced towards the bald man. "Why? You happen to know any?"

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. "Yeah… there was this one girl. I barely did anything to her but she keeps yelling at me for some reason."

* * *

Tatsumaki sneezed as she clenched her fist, crushing the mutated walking swordfish within her telekinetic grasp. Then she sneezed again, causing a nearby gas station to explode. She ignored the sickening cracks as its bones were ground into dust, and instead wondered why she even felt the urge to sneeze in the first place.

Perhaps even more mysterious was the fact that she suddenly felt like turning that stupid baldy into modern art.

* * *

"And don't even get me started on her sister. She started hanging out at my apartment for the sole purpose of trying to convince me to join her group." 'Walking telemarketer' may have been a better term to describe the woman.

"Ha…!" Reinhardt patted Saitama's back, albeit a little too hard. Saitama nearly spit out his rice, and a small bruise formed on Reinhardt's palm. "Keep talking like that, and I'll start to think that your world isn't that much different from ours."

"...The first time I denied her she threw a blizzard at me."

"...Nevermind. I take that back."

* * *

"Achoo!" To Fubuki, the sneeze came rather abruptly.

"Are you alright Miss Fubuki? Do you have a cold?" Her subordinate Lily offered her a tissue, to which she gratefully accepted.

She shook her head. "No, it's just…" Then something occurred to her. "...have we bothered Saitama at all today?"

The question, as well as its wording caught the young hero off guard. "Um, no…?" Fubuki's coat levitated from the hangar towards her as she got up. "Um, where are you going Miss Blizzard?"

"It's been a slow day today. I'm going to see if this latest method will convince him. Fu fu fu…" Fubuki exited out the door, but not before grabbing the magazine lying on the table. On it, several coupons offered some rather generous discounts on a variety of wigs.

* * *

"Is this really the best time to be discussing this?" They all turned towards the voice of reason. Though that title probably would have been more fitting, had she not been slurping her ramen for the past ten minutes. "Winston did mention that we're staking our financial crisis on this mission. I don't feel right relaxing like this. Besides, what if-"

"Fareeha." Angela rested her fingers on top of hers. "I know you're worried, but tensing up about something isn't going to benefit you. Trust me, I'm a doctor. And besides," She leaned forwards in her chair towards Reinhardt with a curious glance. "...what do you mean by 'another world?'"

"Oh, you don't know? Well, I'm glad you asked!" Reinhardt suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. "Saitama here came from another world. And let me tell you, it's quite a tale!"

Their reactions were somewhat expected, to be honest. Most of them just looked at each other, unsure of how to process the situation. Aside from him and Genos, Reinhardt was one of the few who knew about it, but only because he begged to hear about it. Letting that little bit slip when he was near definitely wasn't one of his brighter moments.

"Another world? Forgive me if I have trouble believing that." Symmetra deadpanned at no one in particular. Not to mention her reaction was somewhat more realistic than Reinhardt's. The man didn't spend a second doubting the words that came out of the hero's mouth.

"Actually, in practice," Winston suddenly sat up in his seat, wiping the peanut butter off his lips. "...the Multiverse Theory has improved substantially over the recent decades. Physicists have discovered-"

"-Multiple phenomenons and discrepancies in the time space continuum, yatta yatta yatta." McCree bobbed his head back and forth as he imitated what he presumed to be the voice of an intelligent physicist, much to the gorilla's chagrin. "Only heard this conversation about five or six times now. 'Sides, if y'all think that's impossible, then why don't I do a recap of the events of last week?"

"Somehow I doubt you'd need to. The media's done a good enough job of that." said Fareeha. Truth be told, you had to be living under a rock to not know what happened in Caligo and New York. "I'm honestly more curious about this so-called 'other world.'"

"Indeed. What is your world like, Saitama?" Genji pressed his hands together. He couldn't deny that the idea piqued his curiosity as well.

And now Saitama was suddenly the center of attention. Again.

Frankly, he didn't really know how to explain it. Not when his daily routine there consisted of him waking up, eating breakfast, going outside, fighting monsters, buying groceries, and going to bed. Now he wished he took that public speaking class back in high school.

Might as well wing it.

"Well, for starters, th-"

"Monsters! Monsters everywhere! The people flee in terror as the wicked beasts descend upon them. Cities fall and towns are demolished as their numbers increase! As time goes on, the devastation shows no sign of stopping. Chaos and destruction are everywhere!"

...Or, he could just let Reinhardt do the talking.

"But fear not, for there are heroes in our midst!" Reinhardt stood up on his seat with his arms outstretched. By now he had captured everyone's attention. "With their combined might, and their hearts of gold, they suppress the rising evil that threatens to destroy their world!"

Saitama wasn't sure about the 'hearts of gold' part, but he knew some heroes who actually got paid in gold.

"However, one monster stands above the rest, his strength unmatched. Though they fight valiantly, they are beaten to the ground, powerless in the face of their foe. The monster stood there, with not a scratch on his body. He grins wickedly, knowing that victory is in his sight. His name you ask? He is none other than… Vaccine Man!"

Everyone visibly blanched at the name. Not that Saitama could blame them. If those monsters had their own association or something, then they definitely didn't spare the naming industry any budget.

"Ah! But what's this? A young girl, frail and defenseless. But the heroes have no more strength, and Vacci- the monster has no trace of mercy in his eyes. They could only watch as he inched closer and closer to his prey. But before he could lay his hands on him, a man rocketed into the battlefield out of nowhere, safely rescuing the young girl!"

Saitama yawned. The others seemed pretty drawn into his storytelling, even Symmetra. But hearing his own backstory was actually pretty boring. Not that Reinhardt was a bad storyteller. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"He stood there valiantly, delivering the girl to safety. Who is this man, you ask? The strongest hero alive! He is none other than…"

Here we go…

"I! Reinhardt!"

...Wait, what?

"My rockets burst to life once more, as I charged the horned creature! With a swing of my hammer, I batted away the blasts of energy like baseballs! Then, with one swipe of my hammer, I-"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Stop." Saitama arched his neck up at the inconsistent storyteller. "That is **not** what happened."

"But you always make it sound boring. You always end off every battle with 'I punched it.'"

"Well, you can't just self-insert yourself into other universes because you feel like it. Isn't that cliche or something?"

Genos just arrived from the kitchen, with a tray expertly balanced on his right hand. He was not expecting to see a verbal argument between his master and Reinhardt, especially not one about the basis of making a good crossover. He assumed Reinhardt had been trying to make a point by standing on his chair, but if anything, it made him look kind of stupid.

"Did something happen while I was gone?" Genos set down the tray. Soon after Genji and McCree grabbed their respective cups of sake and liquor.

"Oh, not much. Just more of Reinhardt's storytelling." Though to Fareeha, it must have been quite a life for Saitama, having to fight monsters every day. "By the way, you got my order, right?"

"Yes." Genos handed her a plate with a strawberry shortcake on it, which she ate while holding it under the table. "Shall I get dessert for the others as well?"

"Sure. Just do me a favor and keep this order between us." Genos gave her a weird glance. Why she suddenly started whispering he didn't know. "Don't tell Angela I said this, but I'm not actually on a diet right now. It's best if we keep that a secret."

Genos stared at her blankly, before replying, "Keep what a secret?"

"Good man."


	18. Ball and Chain

A bit of time had passed since they finished eating lunch. Before long, the Overboat (Saitama was pretty sure the guy who gave him the name "Caped Baldy" named this boat) reached its destination, hovering above the ill seen Mariana Trench. Many of them held onto their regrets, for they all so thoroughly enjoyed Genos' cooking. His culinary skills were but one of the many surprises that came with the blond cyborg; something that Hana had yet to learn.

But the time for lunch had long passed. The agents gathered inside of a massive room stationed below deck, housing several corridors and shelves stocked with diving equipment. Directly in the center lied a large rectangular moonpool, its gentle waters reflecting a calm blue. Hana busied herself with the computer, while the others pretended to do something important, like say, tying a rope or rotating a buoy 180°, in order to keep up the ruse. To Saitama it looked as though they were getting down to business. So he did the same.

Needless to say, he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

Granted, it wasn't necessarily his fault. Angela had apparently been the one to be tasked with strapping the huge oxygen tank to Saitama's back. The doctor did her best to tie the straps around Saitama's body, often forcing her into awkward positions. Not that she minded the view. And Saitama either didn't know or didn't care. At the moment he was just trying to cope with the fact that he felt like someone duct taped him to a wall. He could even lift his feet up if he tried.

And then there was the goggles.

"How come I get the crappy goggles?" Saitama stretched the dirty pair of goggles in front of him, before letting it snap back against his face. "I thought it was supposed to be 2076. But these goggles look like they've been used by twenty people before me."

"Is that- ugh… is that seriously what you're focused on right now?" berated Angela, as she absentmindedly focused on the more appreciable aspects of Saitama from a lower angle.

"Well, I mean that soldier guy had that robocop mask. And then there's…" He briefly glanced at the woman forming those orb-like devices. He leaned his head as close to Angela as possible, and whispered, "...What's her name again?"

"Symmetra. It's Symmetra." she whispered back as the two connectors clicked.

"Right. Even she has her own pair of cool-looking glasses. How come I don't get a pair? Isn't it part of the job description or something?"

"Why do you want one so badly anyway? Somehow I get the feeling that this has nothing to do with the mission." Angela stood up and placed her hands on her hips, in an attempt to tower over Saitama. It didn't work.

Saitama glanced towards the side, where Genos chatted away with Hana. Something about a 'Pub Gee' or something along those lines.

"...Have you ever seen those advertisements with those cool looking VR headsets?" Saitama rubbed his index fingers together.

"...Yes?" Angela really didn't know where this was going.

"Well, I saw a bunch of those VR ads around New York, and they look much cooler than the ones back in my world. I mean, I can't let Genos have all the fun. He can even stream movies straight to his eyeballs." Oh. Now she knew where this was going. "Plus, there's this one anime I was really looking forward to watch. 'Fist of Remnant', I think it was called."

Angela blinked a few times. Was this man actually being serious right now? No way was anyone this simple-minded, especially someone who could shatter mountains by sneezing. Or maybe it was just a side effect of having so much power in his remarkably tuned ab- his red gloves.

She'd have to take a comparative diagnosis later. Preferably a gynecologic one.

The doctor let out a sigh. "I'll talk to Winston later and see if he can get you one. Pretty sure he left a few in the basement." The last part came out rather muffled. It wasn't accidental.

"Really? Cool. Thanks." Saitama smiled, before darting his head back and forth several times. "By the way, where is Winston? Isn't he supposed to be here or something?"

"That's a good question…" The last she saw the gorilla, he was in the middle of telling them to meet up in the moonpool bay. He better not be trying to do anything weird.

Apparently she got her hopes up a little too high, because in the next moment, a weird groaning noise could be heard from the east corridor. Everybody immediately stopped what they were doing, and faced towards the source of the weird sound as it slowly increased in volume. It did not sound like Winston at all, and yet, at the same time, it kind of did. Why he suddenly decided to imitate a flamingo being suffocated by an angry monkey remained beyond them.

After a five-minute period of either intense pain or euphoria, Winston finally emerged from the corridor, sweating 0.50 caliber bullets and… carrying a giant ball of iron for some reason. Some of the agents visibly sighed in relief. It was obvious they had… different ideas regarding his predicament.

That still left the mystery of the ball and chain, however.

"Dare I ask?" Fareeha didn't bother with the whole question. She didn't even want to know why Winston even had something like that in the first place.

"That's… I'm glad you… asked." The words stumbled out of the gorilla's mouth, as did he, when he staggered towards Saitama clumsily. His stamina vanished, and held out the medieval device as he collapsed to the ground, but not before Saitama casually took the thing out of his hands.

Winston raised one finger. This usually meant the avid scientist was about to say something of extreme relevance. Instead, he collapsed into a massive coughing fit, hacking rather violently and spreading his spittle into the water. The others watched silently as he slowly recovered. Ironically enough he somehow managed to submerge one side of the moonpool with just his sweat.

Saitama shifted uncomfortably, as he balanced the iron ball in one hand. "So, um, what's this?" Well, obviously it was something to hold down nuaghty children. Maybe the better question was 'Why the hell do you even have this in the first place?'

"That my friend," Winston pointed at the thing, still panting as he remained crouched on the floor. "...is the key to our success."

Fareeha glanced towards the metal ball rested in Saitama's palms. Then she stared back at Winston. And then it hit her.

"You're joking." Or at least, she hoped he was joking.

"As someone who got a C- in psychology, I can assure you that I am in fact, not joking. That would be Reinhardt's job."

"No arguing there." replied the hulking man.

"Winston, please be honest with me here. Do you honestly, truly believe that this is the best solution that we can come up with?" There was a bit of desperation in Fareeha's tone. Perhaps a shred of hope, that her friend wasn't nearly as insane as he has shown over the past twenty seconds, lied somewhere in it as well.

"What?" Winston shrugged, as if there was absolutely nothing with the solution he presented. "How else are we gonna get him down there?"

"I- you- you know what? Just forget it. McCree." The former head of security jabbed her index finger towards the cowboy silently smoking five cigarettes, in an attempt to process everything that happened within the past seven minutes. "Get over here and clamp that thing onto Saitama's leg."

McCree's jaw slightly dropped, causing his cigarettes to mimic its motion. "How come I have to do it?"

"If Overwatch is going to get disbanded again due to assisted murder then I'd rather it be by someone who's familiar with having a criminal record." McCree let out a long sigh. And to think they had put that behind them. He walked towards Saitama, albeit rather sullenly, and slowly took the clamp dangling from the iron ball.

"Can't believe we're actually going through with this. Actually, scratch that; can't believe you're going through this. Sorry if you ended up getting the short end of the stick pal."

"That's okay. The watching point has a laundry, right?"

McCree shot him a weird look. "...Yeah?"

"Alright, good. Last thing I need is to walk around in a soggy suit. I might need spare clothes while they're drying though." Saitama furthered his leg so McCree didn't have to bend so far to attach the clamp. The latter just stared at the bald man like he was insane.

Then again, they've dealt with insane before. And by 'insane', he of course, was referring to Winston.

"What about you?" McCree glanced towards the cyborg. "You seem awfully okay with this."

"There is no need to worry." Genos confidently replied. "I always keep a spare bottle of detergent for situations like these."

Hana had to hold back a snicker. That probably wasn't what he meant by that.

McCree shook his head, and tugged on the clamp. "Alright, I guess it's pretty secure."

"Alright then. Let's get this over with." Saitama lugged the massive tank over his back, but Winston stopped him.

"Wait, before you go, you should probably take this." Saitama swiveled his body around, accidentally hitting Angela with the tank. In Winston's hand was a small blue pill. "I thought I might need to help redirect you towards the trench, so I made this compact communicator."

Saitama eyed the odd-looking pill. "Pretty sure that'll just fall off if I put it in my ear."

"You don't put it in your ear." he replied coolly.

"...What?" And then he realized. "Oh, come on. Seriously?"

"Just keep it tucked between your teeth and you should be fine." Saitama stared at the cursed thing, before reluctantly sticking it in the suggested location. At least it wasn't suppository. "So? How is it?"

"Tastes like plastic." he responded dryly.

"If it makes you feel better, I added a speaker to it so you can listen to Frank Sinatra's playlist."

Saitama blinked. "...What?"

"Just tug on the tether three times." Winston lifted the tether attached to Saitama's oxygen tank, and handed it to Saitama. Sure enough, after three consecutive tugs, he could hear Frank Sinatra's "Stardust" playing from inside his mouth. Frankly, he wasn't sure what to think of that.

Couldn't he have like, put the speaker on his headlamp or something?

"...Thanks?" Saitama tried not to make it sound so forced.

"Ah, don't mention it. It was three stars on Amazon." Winston coughed really loudly when Saitama tried to press him on that. "So, is there anything you want to say before you set off?"

He thought about it for a second. "...No, I'd rather not. If it's any difference to you all, I'd rather get this over with as soon as possible."

"Don't see anything wrong with that." McCree tipped his hat forward. "Just uh, don't die on me. Not sure I want to go back to having a criminal record."

"What happened? Did you get caught by the fashion police?" Someone snorted beside him. He was pretty sure it was Fareeha, but she obviously had no intention of admitting it.

"...I take it back. I hope you drown." Though the grin that followed, however small or brief, did not go unnoticed by Saitama.

"If that's all there is to be said, then I wish you bon voyage, Saitama!"

"Wait, don't-" McCree came a second too late. And even then, it probably wouldn't have stopped Winston from kicking the metal ball into the moonpool as hard as he possibly could.

The ball did not move. At all.

The gorilla did however, succeed in shattering all the toes on his right foot. Not long after he found himself writhing on the floor in pain, with Angela dispassionately tending to his injury. The others watched awkwardly as she lazily wrapped a bunch of bandages around his toes before walking away. Something told Saitama it wasn't the first time she had to deal with this kind of crap.

"I should uh, I should go." Saitama quietly announced, as he picked up the iron ball with one hand and dropped it into the water with a splash. When it didn't pull him in, he simply walked towards the moonpool, lugging the massive air tank behind him, and hopped in with a loud splash.

They all silently agreed that the gorilla had it coming.

* * *

The metal ball did a pretty good job of pulling him down. The sight of the Overboat had long vanished, replaced by the endless vast of water. The marine life had been pretty abundant, with schools of fish rushing by, and if he really tried he could see some whales in the far distance. However, the sight lasted for perhaps the first few minutes. Or at least, according to his estimation. There was a reason why he got a C- in math classes and not a C+.

Either way, he knew that a bit of time had passed since then. The rays of sunlight penetrating the waters faded with the passing seconds, and instead were replaced by a more ominous, dark hue. Not to mention the marine life becoming more and more sparse. Though, that was partially due to the darkness, and the fact that the tether and the chain simultaneously pulling him fixed him at an awkward angle. Every now and then he tried to right himself, but always flopped back into the same, tilted position every time. As of the moment the only marine life he spotted with his headlamp was this distant shark, but he couldn't even be sure if it was a shark right now.

Wait, was he eating a cheeseburger?

Okay, this is weird. At least he had Frank Sinatra's music to relieve some of the stress, even if the pill did vibrate against his teeth rather annoyingly.

"How are y… holdi… up?" Frank Sinatra went on a brief hiatus to let Winston speak into the microphone, however staticy it sounded. Though he still sounded rather constipated, most likely due to his earlier injury.

"Fine, I guess. Though it is getting pretty dark." The breather covering his mouth prevented him from hearing what he said, but he heard Winston grunt in acknowledgement. Damn, maybe he should take off this oxygen tank. It felt really uncomfortable on his back.

"Ah yes. Remai… wary, you're mo… likely in the bathypelagic at the mo… ment. Judging from the weight of that leg i… ron, it shouldn't be too long before you re… ach the abyssopelagic."

Saitama cocked an eyebrow. That proved to be much more difficult underwater. "The what now?"

"It's ba… cally the border be… tween your everyday average darkness… and advanced darkness."

"Oh." Well, that summed it up pretty well.

A few more minutes passed in silence. Every now and then Winston would say some mumbo jumbo about coordinates or something, then Saitama would swing the foot clamped to the iron ball so he could fix his course. When he got bored, Saitama bent his face forward so he could feel the water press against his face. The bubbles speeding past his face made him feel as though he were traveling through hyperspace.

His sixth grade teacher mentioned that the human body could usually go around before 300 feet before the excessive nitrogen tampered with your nervous system, causing a sense of euphoria before your lungs caved in. Well, guess she was wrong, now that he was here. Pretty ironic, considering it was one of the few things he remembered in-

Whoa.

That's a huge hole.

Or at least, huge from this angle. If the headlamp weren't so bright, then he might have missed it, and even then he only saw the corner of it. It wasn't the size that bothered him; he'd traversed an alien spaceship the size of his city after all. It was the fact that the massive hole formed a near perfect circle, the only flaws being the wide cracks that engulfed the edge. Speaking of the edge…

Huh, those weren't rocks. Actually, they kind of looked like metal shrapnel, now that he got a closer look. Were those the remains of the seabase Winston mentioned? There didn't seem to be much of it. They must have fell into that huge hole.

"Sa… ma. Y… th… re? I'm g… ing weird re… ings fr… your he… amp." Great, he doubted he could talk to Winston like this. Might as well at least try to tell him about the mysterious hole.

"Dunno what you're saying, but there's this really big hole at the bottom of the trench." Saitama's eyes drifted towards a small band of fish cruising below him. "I didn't really do that well in geography class, but I'm pretty sure tha-"

The fish suddenly disappeared.

Saitama glanced to where they just were. Where did they go?

"Sa… a? D… y… sa… s… th… ing?"

He plunged. Hard. He felt the straps suddenly snap from the immense pressure, and the giant air tank vanished off somewhere. Even the iron chain shattered from the sheer force of the pull; where it went he had no idea.

He had but a second to observe the edges of the engulfing void below him, before quickly getting sucked in by the unknown force. Wait, his geography teacher mentioned something like this in class. What did she call them again? Currents? Yeah, something like that.

The currents pulled on him even harder, and the goggles couldn't take any more of the strain, and a crack formed. Though, for such cheap goggles, they lasted pretty long, he had to admit. With a soft tug, he snapped them off, and discarded them.

At this point, he couldn't tell where he was, or even whether it was dark or not. Without the goggles, the water rushing against his face caused his eyes to sting, so he just kept them closed for the time being. Then he pinched his nose, hard, when water started rushing up his nostrils. He really hated it when that happened.

Still, aside from that, and having his eyes flooded with water, the whole thing actually felt pretty surreal. Even more so with Frank Sinatra's playlist gently humming from inside his mouth. It kind of felt like… skydiving, in a sense. This must be how they came up with Interstellar.

The only other time he traveled this fast when when Boros kneed him into the moon. Now all he needed to complete the deja vu was to make a massive crater. Except, instead of meeting the hard, stony ground, his body hit something soft and cushiony. The next moment he felt himself being propelled backwards into the air.

Huh. That was new.

He waited for his body to drift back down again, and sure enough, that same, cushiony sensation engulfed his arm, and he bounced up again, like a basketball. Just what the hell was the bottom of the sea made of? Not wanting to delay any further, he opened his eyes, the stinging sensation long vanished with his extreme momentum.

Ironically enough, he did not need his headlamp anymore, despite it being one of the few pieces of equipment that survived the fall, because, oddly enough, the illumination around the area proved to be more than sufficient. It enabled him to see these weird, purple pads extending across the whole seafloor. And he meant the whole seafloor. As in, thousands of thousands of these weird purple things wrapping across the ground in a series of square patterns, like some kind of leather quilt.

Okay, so the entire bottom of the sea was this huge bouncy house. What else was there?

He tried to stand up, but the moment his feet touched the ground, his body ricocheted in the opposite direction. Then he bounced again. Alright. This was getting annoying.

Try as he might, the infernal bouncing did not stop. His vision spun in all directions, much to the hero's chagrin, as he accidentally performed three somersaults. Tick marks appeared on his forehead as he scrunched in anger. Enough is enough. Time to bring out the big guns.

He stopped squirming midair (midwater?) so he could get a footing on his vision. His vision swam for the next few seconds, before settling on the purple padded field below him. Then he cocked his fist back, the field drawing closer and closer.

Steady… steady…

Now.

His fist rocketed forward, the sheer speed alone causing the water surrounding his arm to evaporate and expand. Cavitation bubbles, Ms. Myriam called them. How could he forget a geography term that sounded like a finishing move in Mortal Combat?

But yeah. The fist struck the purple pad, and hard. The cavitation bubbles detonated, the shockwaves briefly igniting his arm, and scorching the pad. Okay, that was pretty cool, he had to admit. Note to self: punching this deep underwater creates a fire fist. Maybe he should practice this technique so he can cook the local marine life without having to-

Wait.

Why was the ground bending inwards?

Oh crap.

The ground finished bending inward from his attack, and Saitama barely had time to register it snapping firmly back into place. Saitama found himself getting violently thrown back, by the force of his own punch no less. If he didn't know better, there was probably a metaphor somewhere in there.

As he darted through the waters at blinding speeds, he finally stopped when his back struck something hard. With an absence of grace he slowly slid down whatever he hit. Then, much to his irritation, he started bouncing around again.

After about ten minutes of screaming out bubbles and pent up frustration, he finally managed to stand upright by carefully keeping his feet centered in the small creased between the pads. He still kept bouncing up slightly, but at least that ordeal was done and over with. Why was he here again? Oh yeah. The Canadium, or something like that. He should probably consult Winston abou-

Ah crap. The transmitter. No way would he be able to contact him from all the way down here. It already struggled all the way back from where the massive hole began, and since then he had no idea just how far he had gone. Now that he thought about it, he lost the tether attached to his oxygen tank too, so it looked like he'd be listening to Frank Sinatra for a while.

Well, that was just brilliant. From the looks of things, no ancient metal could be seen for miles, and not one fish could be seen down here. The only thing that reminded him this place even existed were those weird purple pads that refused to let him stand still. Might as well jump back up and tell the others that-

Hold it.

He turned around.

And when the bouncy pads stopped him from doing that, he forcefully swiveled his body so he could get a good look at it. The thing that stopped his underwater flight.

A rock. Okay, well, not just any rock. A rock in a form of a giant cube. The pads caused a bit of distance between him and the strange monument, so he marched (or bounced, rather) towards the ill-placed object, albeit rather ungracefully.

Closing the distance helped him to distinguish these strange markings on the front of the cube. Actually, no- they weren't just on this side. They could be seen on all sides. Well, he had no idea what they said, but damn, whoever made these had really good handwriting. Curious, he laid a hand on it…

Only for the markings to burst into light, the green letters illuminating the whole area around him. The green glow intensified to the point where he actually had to shield his eyes. These had to be the weirdest lamps he ever came across. He turned around to spare his eyes from the intense light, and-

Wait, were there more of these things?

Another stone cube, exactly like the one in front of the first one, a few meters behind it. The only difference seemed to be the markings, which he noticed were actually somewhat different. It lit up blazingly just like the first.

Then another one lit up. And another one. And- holy crap, how many of these things were there? Were they always there? Why didn't he see them before?

"🏱︎●︎ ︎ ︎⬧︎ ︎. ✋︎ ︎❍︎ ︎■︎ ■︎ ︎ ︎ ︎."

The heck? The pill-radio shouldn't be working right now. Not that it mattered. He had no idea what Winston just said. Wait, why was Frank Sinatra still singing?

"✡︎□︎◆︎ ❍︎◆︎⬧︎⧫︎ ︎ ︎●︎◻︎ ❍︎ ︎."

Uh, okay, so that voice definitely wasn't coming from the pill-radio. Who the heck would- it was a telemarketer wasn't it. Stupid, annoying, telemarketers, always calling at the most inconvenient times. When he looked at his dad yelling into the phone as a young child, he never imagined that he would take his place one day. Dammit. Why were telemarketers still a thing? That's it. Once he got back up, he'd do something about that fu-

❄︎ ︎●︎ ︎❍︎ ︎❒︎&︎ ︎⧫︎ ︎❒︎⬧︎. 👍︎□︎◆︎◻︎□︎■︎⬧︎. 👎︎ ︎⬧︎ ︎□︎◆︎■︎⧫︎⬧︎. ✋︎❒︎❒︎ ︎●︎ ︎❖︎ ︎■︎⧫︎. ︎ ︎❒︎□︎ ︎⬧︎. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎⧫︎ ︎❒︎⬧︎. 🏱︎◆︎■︎ ︎ ︎ ︎■︎ ︎. ❄︎ ︎❒︎❍︎ ❒︎ ︎ ︎□︎ ︎■︎ ︎⌘︎ ︎ ︎. 💧︎ ︎ ︎❒︎ ︎ ︎ ︎■︎ ︎. 💧︎ ︎ ︎❒︎ ︎ ︎ ︎■︎ ︎.

👍︎□︎■︎ ︎◆︎⬧︎ ︎□︎■︎. ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎. ︎●︎□︎❒︎⍓︎. 👍︎□︎❍︎◻︎ ︎⬧︎⬧︎ ︎□︎■︎. ︎□︎◆︎❒︎⧫︎ ︎ ⧫︎ ︎❒︎❍︎ ❒︎ ︎ ︎□︎ ︎■︎ ︎⌘︎ ︎ ︎. ✋︎ ︎ ︎❖︎ ︎ ⬧︎ ︎■︎■︎ ︎ ︎. ︎◆︎⧫︎ ︎□︎❍︎◻︎ ︎⬧︎⬧︎ ︎□︎■︎ ︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎ ︎ ⬥︎❒︎□︎■︎ ︎. ✋︎ ◻︎❒︎□︎❍︎ ︎⬧︎ ︎ ✋︎ ⬥︎ ︎●︎●︎ ❒︎ ︎⧫︎◆︎❒︎■︎ □︎■︎ ︎ ︎ ︎⍓︎. ︎◆︎⬧︎⧫︎ ︎ ︎❖︎ ︎ ❍︎ ︎ ⧫︎ ︎❍︎ ︎.

✡︎□︎◆︎ &︎■︎□︎⬥︎ ︎ ︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ︎ ︎❍︎📪︎ ︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ 👌︎●︎ ︎⬧︎⧫︎✍︎

-ing bastard who called him, probably teach him a lesson or two while he was at it, and, and…

Was the monument getting brighter? Wait…

He saw these characters before.

In a moment, he understood. Then, he vanished, in a brilliant green flash.


	19. Trench Walker

Saitama woke up.

Sore spots ignited all over his body.

This was his cue to go back to sleep and forget about it.

...Okay. This isn't working.

And to think he had it rough with his dusty futon. But no; someone just **had** to go the extra mile. "Let's see just how hard we can make this bed," they probably thought. Evil bastards. The only people he knew who would enjoy putting such misery on other people were…

...telemarketers.

Now everything made sense.

Besides, all that telemarketed money had to go somewhere right? WIth so much money flowing in, it wouldn't be hard for people like them to buy diamonds with the highest carrot rating (or whatever that term was), and imbue them into beds for the sole purpose of depriving innocent people of their sleep. Now that was evil.

Okay, maybe not planet-busting evil, but still pretty evil nonetheless.

Well, he could worry about destroying the telemarketers' secret hideout later. Right now he had to, uh…

He scratched his head.

What was he supposed to do again? Hmmm…

Electric bill… water… Canadium… bouncy house… something along those lines.

"Finally awake?" The voice startled him somewhat, causing him to shoot forwards on his bed. Which he soon regretted. Like he said earlier, the bed was harder than a rock. Actually, upon further inspection, the bed really was a rock. Part of him was tempted to break the thing apart just to pick out all the diamonds, assuming there were any hidden in the slab of stone.

Groggily, the hero rubbed his eyes. He felt like crap. A migraine hammered away at his skull. The joints in all of his limbs felt cramped. And his suit…

...was oddly dry. Weird. Wasn't he a million miles underwater not too long ago? Well, he wasn't complaining. He turned towards his right to find a man sitting on a stool next to him, his fingers wrapped together. But what really caught his attention was his magnificent white beard. It looked pretty familiar, oddly enough.

Wait a minute. He knew this man. Heck, everyone knew about him, or at least heard of him at some point in their lives. Besides, who could forget about a person whose very existence caused holiday sales to skyrocket in stores everywhere? For this man was none other than-

"I know what you're thinking. And for the record, no. I am not, in fact, Santa Claus. Jackass."

...Oh.

Right.

He didn't know what exactly incurred that line of thinking, but perhaps it's best not to inquire too deeply about it.

Saitama rubbed the back of his head rather awkwardly. "Sorry, it's just uh… you really looked like him for a second there." Aside from the black trench coat, that is. "I uh, looked up to him a lot."

The man stared at him. Briefly, his eyes shifted towards his head. Then he closed his eyes, and nodded in understanding.

"Ah, I see what you mean." It took Saitama a minute to realize what just went through the aging man's head.

"Wh- no, that's not what I-" He slapped a hand over his face. "Nevermind. So uh, does everyone mistake you for Santa Claus?"

"More often than not." the man replied. "I'd have shaved the beard by then, but chances are, they probably won't let me live it down regardless. That damn wizard already put up pictures of me everywhere wearing a Santa hat." He scowled at the mere thought of him.

"...Who's 'they?'" asked Saitama.

"Who else? The people who got dragged down here before you. They found you snoring in one of the hubs." He scratched his beard. "Where was I? Oh, right. Yeah, most people here like to call me Santa. I'd appreciate it if you just called me Aizic. Aizic D. Mann. Or just Mann if you prefer. Just not Santa."

Aizic huh? Now where did he hear that name before…

He was drawing blanks. Damn short term memory. Still, he wanted to make sure.

"Do you have any relatives by any chance?" asked Saitama.

"Nope, not that I know of." Oh. It must've just been a duplicate name then. "Oh yeah, and sorry about the bed. Those aren't exactly a luxury down here. Speaking of 'here', do you want to explain how exactly you managed getting here without suffocating or having your lungs cave in? Last I checked, humans aren't exactly capable of traversing these kinds of depths… unless something happened in the past decade that allowed humankind to evolve into superhuman stages?"

"Whoa whoa, slow down. Twenty words max for each paragraph." He hummed, before adding, "And uh, nothing weird like that happened, I don't think." Though that really depended on his definition of weird. Something like that tends to deviate when you have a talking gorilla as your colleague.

"Well, that's a shame. Thought I'd have something interesting to tell the others." Mann leaned backwards, and briefly stared at the wall in disappointment. "But if that's the case, how did you get down here then?"

"Oh that? I just jumped." he nonchalantly replied.

Mann raised an eyebrow. "...'Jumped', you say?"

"Well I guess not really 'jumped.' It was more of an 'agreed to have a cowboy attach an iron ball to your leg and have a scientist gorilla interrupt Frank Sinatra to guide your fall' kind of thing." Great, just when he thought he had their names down. He'd have to ask them about it later.

Mann leaned forward on his stool. "Interesting. Very, interesting." He closed his eyes, and maintained that pose for the next thirty seconds or so.

"Uh, you okay?" asked Saitama. If it was some kind of ancient ritual, then he'd rather not interrupt. The last time he did, his refrigerator exploded.

"Hmmm… what did you say your name was again?" he finally asked.

"It's Saitama. I never actually said it." Hopefully the old man would be able to remember it.

"Saitama, huh. Know, Saitama, that I am a man of many things. Among them is a man who understand physics well. And usually this is the part where I shout some sciency mumbo jumbo at you in an attempt to derail the kind of thinking you just employed."

"...Are you?" He almost didn't want to ask.

Mann huffed. "No. It's only Tuesday. Frankly, even if I wanted to, it'd probably just end up being a waste of time. So instead let's just pretend that we all live in a perfect world, where physicians like me see insane things happen everyday, then move along with their lives as though everything's normal."

Saitama blinked a few times. "But if they pretend everything's normal, then it's not really insane, is it?"

"I know, that's what's insane about it." Mann pulled a mug off the counter, which Saitama didn't even realize was there, and drank out of it. The aroma of coffee smelled oddly pleasing. "Instead of recalling exactly what happened, why don't you just list the weirdest parts of your journey, if I should even call it that?"

The weirdest parts, huh? He rubbed his chin. Well, for starters… "There were those weird purple bouncy pad things on the seafloor. Oh yeah, then there was that cube rock stuck in it. Actually, now that I think about it, why wasn't it bouncing? If it was embedded in the ground, then shouldn't it have-"

"Focus." warned Mann.

"Right. Sorry. Other than the rock, I heard someone speaking to me. I didn't understand any of it, but I feel like I've heard it before…" It was a strange feeling indeed. Either way, Mann seemed to be intrigued by it.

"Did you have some kind of a vision right after hearing that voice?" asked Mann.

A vision? Actually, he did remember seeing something green flash in his face when the voice spoke. Strange. It almost felt like… he could understand it, somehow. Understand what exactly?

"Can't recall?" Mann rubbed the flat of his palm against his knees. "Don't think too hard on it. None of us can. Besides, we didn't discuss that whole fiasco with the voice of all things until after we managed to get a decent layout of this place."

"What is this place anyway?" This probably should have been his first question, actually.

Man's face suddenly turned grim. "It's the one place the heavens themselves didn't want us to discover." What exactly was that supposed to mean?

It stood at the back of his mind at first. Only when the slight shaking became a full-on tremor did it finally register in Saitama's head. He suddenly found himself getting thrown off the stone slab of a bed (which he really didn't mind), flew over Mann's head, and hit his head against the opposite wall, leaving a large crack in it. Mann simply pressed his foot under the counter, and used his palm to cover the top of his mug.

Only when the shaking died down after a few seconds did Saitama see fit to pull his head out of the wall. Mann removed his hand from the top of his mug, and wiped the coffee stains on his coat.

"It was pretty alarming at first, I have to admit." Mann took another sip of his coffee. "But even things like that you get used to over time. There's a reason why we cleared off all the shelves."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." Saitama pulled himself off the ground, and rubbed the dirt off his suit and head. At least it didn't get into his special place this time. "To be honest, I'm still kind of confused about this whole thing."

"That's to be expected." He placed the cup of coffee on the counter. "I guess it's probably better if I show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Who knows, you'll probably get to meet them along the way." Mann got out of his stool, and walked towards the doorway.

Wait. 'Them?' "By 'them' do you mean...?" he asked. But Mann didn't answer, and instead waved his hand in front of the door and made this weird gesture. The door briefly glowed green before sliding open. Which he had to admit was pretty cool.

Two seconds after following Mann out the door, a golden shovel embedded itself into the wall three centimeters away from his face. Which he had to admit, was also pretty cool. The golden part, not the part where it nearly hit him in the face.

Mann let out a resigned sigh. "Stand down Helen, we talked. He's not here to do any harm."

"And what makes you say that? All I see is another mouth to feed." Only now did Saitama register the angry woman standing in front of him. The orange vest and the freckles really gave her the survivalist kind of persona. Or maybe he just watched too many zombie movies. Either way, she didn't seem that bad. "Don't think he automatically sympathizes with us just because he has the same number of hairs on his head as you, Mann."

...Alright. Now she has officially entered the Red Zone.

"What's her deal? Is she on her menopause or something?" Saitama whispered in Mann's ear.

Helen's eyebrows scrunched together. "Hey, I heard that, baldy number two."

Mann looked back towards Saitama. "Oh yeah, definitely. For some time now too."

"Really? For how long?"

"Ever since the day I married her."

Several creases became visible on her forehead, as Helen's eyebrows continued scrunching against each other. "Don't pretend like I'm not here!"

"I recommend Estrogel." Saitama stuck his palm near his neck, to which Mann responded with an 'okay' sign with his fingers. Neither of them paid any attention to Helen as her face grew hotter and hotter. The geyser definitely would have erupted right then and there, if that other woman didn't suddenly show up out of nowhere.

"Oh hey, would you look at the time!" the younger, more petite woman plopped her hands onto Helen's shoulders, and looked at her imaginary wristwatch. "Hey, Helen, wanna go grab lunch together? It's Tortellini, your favorite!"

Helen's face went down by at least three degrees of murder. "They always serve Tortellini…" she grumbled.

"That makes it even better! Come on, I'll even get you some beer. Let's not disturb the Administrator for the time being, m'kay?"

"...Okay." The taller woman calmed down at the younger woman's antics, and made herself not known before disappearing through the large corridor.

"Huh. That was weird." Saitama turned towards the significantly less temperamental woman. "Thanks, I guess."

"No problem. I know she's kind of difficult, but she's really not that bad, trust me. I'm Wentworth, by the way. You?"

"Saitama."

"Saitama. Interesting name. I'll put it in my list of references later. But I think I should head to the cafeteria for now. Something tells me that beer isn't going to pour itself." And just like that, she zoomed out of their sight, and into the next hallway. She kind of reminded him of those secretaries who always typed up papers and got their bosses coffee. Or at least, according to the job description.

Huh. Would he have become more like her if he got that job?

"Interesting bunch, I know." Mann let out a low chuckle. "I haven't told them about your arrival yet, by the way. Particularly because I myself don't enjoy getting mobbed."

"Oh. Okay." Then something else occurred to Saitama. "Uh, We-Wes- that woman called you 'Administrator.' Is that like your job title or something?"

"More of an epithet, really." He gave Saitama a knowing glance. "It's a million times better than Santa Claus, I'll tell you that much."

* * *

"...A blowhole?" Saitama almost tripped as he kept his pace with Mann. First there were those weird markings throughout this dimly hallway, which he honestly thought were pretty neat.

But a blowhole? Really?

"Yup, you heard me right. A blowhole." Mann strolled forward casually, with his hands in his coat pockets. "But this one doesn't just expel water, it sucks it in, too. It's what caused that seaquake all those years ago. Probably what pulled you in, too."

"So that giant hole I saw earlier…" Saitama stared at the ceiling. "Huh. That is one huge whale."

"It's not a whale." Mann glanced towards the hero. "At least, not any that we've seen before."

"Huh? How do you know?"

"Well, being stuck at the bottom of the ocean and all really gives you a lot of time to kill. Me and the computer geeks spent quite a bit of time getting into the facility's mainframes. Took a while to translate all that garbled crap, and I doubt it'll be any use to anyone. But it's not like we had anything better to do."

"Oh, you're a computer wizard?"

Mann nearly stopped in his tracks. "That's not… Yes. I suppose I am what you youngsters would refer to as a 'computer wizard.' Anyways, the mainframes told us quite a bit about the creature's anatomy. Apparently the shifting gills are part of what causes those constant tremors. Only part of it, though."

"I dunno. It kind of sounds like a whale, if you ask me."

"Oh? Well then tell me: What kind of whale stretches across the whole Mariana Trench and even further than that? And secondly, who builds a massive facility like this, inside of said whale?"

"...Okay, you have a point." He stared blankly at the green lamps adorning the walls. "...So do you know who built this place?"

Mann shook his head. "Sadly, no. We're not even sure why, for that matter. To be frank, despite all the digging we've done, I have this feeling the rabbit hole stretches even farther. Besides, it gets even weirder."

Saitama didn't necessarily know what he meant by that, but Mann suddenly stopped walking. He probably should've taken that as an indication for what would occur next. Instead he walked face first into a hunk of cold metal.

It would've been nice to know that there was a huge door here. Saitama shot Mann a dirty look, but he remained as indifferent as ever.

The physician stepped to the side, and made a hand gesture in front of the panel. Though it seemed rather intricate, it looked remarkably similar to the one he did earlier. A second later, the symbols on the massive door lit up light a Christmas tree.

Huh. Those characters looked pretty familiar.

Then the massive door split into six, curving seams, and the door slid open in a circular fashion.

The hero was quite surprised by what lied in the next room.

Rows upon rows upon rows of glass cylinders, just like the ones he saw in those alien horror movies. Except all of them were shattered, not just one. Plus, the eerie glowing goo was supposed to be yellow, not green.

A bunch of crap was also strewn across the floor. Huh. If he didn't know better, these were the remains of both mutant lizards and robots from a 19th century cartoon. Either way, those weren't in the movie either. At least, not the one he watched. And all this char must be a nightmare for the janitors who work in this weird place.

To the side, one of the doors had been completely blown open. Well, that part he remembered in the movie. Pretty ominous. And then there was the guy hitting another door with a frying pan. Which wasn't nearly as ominous. More annoying, really. Whoever that guy was, he seemed to be yelling at someone.

"Sir? Sir!" he yelled towards the man, but to no avail. Apparently this matter demanded a more direct approach. He walked up to the person, and spoke into his ear. "Sir, you're making a lot of noise. Please stop. It's hurting my ears."

Then the man did a 180°, and looked at the bald hero like he was crazy or something. Or at least, tried to look. Truth be told, Saitama wasn't even sure if the man was looking at all, the way his viking helmet obscured his eyes.

Yes, that's right. A viking helmet.

His red military uniform would have employed a more militaristic aura if it weren't for that ridiculous helmet. Maybe he went insane from being trapped here for so long?

"Stop, you say? You want me to stop?" The 'viking' stood up as tall as he could, and waved his frying pan menacingly. "Well soldier, you're just gonna have to make me stop, because I am not going to stop hitting my pan against this door until the day I d-" In one swift motion, Saitama snatched the pan out of his hands. The 'viking' actually seemed somewhat disappointed by this. "...Okay, point made. Can I have my pan back? It's… special."

Well, that last part was believable at least. But who the heck makes a golden frying pan?

"Alright, alright. Here." He handed it back with no troubles. "Can I at least know why you're hitting the door with a frying pan?"

He didn't notice it at first, but something heavy slammed against the door. Thankfully, it didn't seem like it would be budging any time soon. Saitama peered through the looking glass, only to be greeted by a pair of angry eyes.

Saitama expectantly returned his gaze towards the viking.

"For the record, I warned Hugh not to eat those weird-looking meatballs raw. Now look at the poor bastard. Has to spend the rest of his days as a blender with a lizard for a face."

"Oh. Bummer." That was probably as clear of an answer he'd get from the weird man. At least he now knew not to eat any mysterious meatballs.

"Ah yes, that's Mr Dough. John Dough." Mann strolled his way towards the two of them. "But you can just call him Yeasty. We all do."

"No. I do not give you permission to address me that way." Yeasty jabbed a finger at the hero. "If you do, then I'll call you- what's your name again soldier?"

"Saitama."

"Then I'll call you a name that isn't that. Actually, I don't recognize you around these parts. Wait a minute…" He jerked towards the physician in their vicinity. "Mann. I thought you told that wizard to stop disguising himself as a telemarketer."

Saitama frowned. "I'm not a telemarketer. I'm not that evil." Besides, who was this 'wizard' they were referring to so much anyway?

"Oh, that's good to know. John Dough, at your service." He smacked his hand against his helmet. It took Saitama a minute to realize it was meant to be a salute. "I may not have the best peripheral vision around here, but I'll have you know I fought off fifty of those stegoraptors with this frying pan."

"Stegoraptors? What?" Something about that seemed a bit off.

Yeasty shifted his gaze towards Mann, who gave him a curt nod.

"Well, if that's the case, then you may as well sit down son. It's gonna be a long one." Saitama didn't know what else to do, so he plopped down and crossed his legs. "It all started, when Mordon tried teleporting a loaf of bread…"


	20. End Roll

Everyone blankly stared at the empty cable in Winston's hand. Their expressions of horror were indeed a sight to look at, but they knew from the beginning how utterly botched this plan was going to be anyway. Especially when they considered that they literally chained a man to a hunk of metal and threw him into the ocean. Or tried to, rather. Winston was still tending to his toes, much to everyone's delight.

Winston gazed at the cable, before laying it beside him. "Well, this will certainly throw a monkey wrench into our plans."

"No. There was no 'plan' Winston. We all came here completely on a whim; you just don't want to admit it." Angela's tone was harsh, and with each word she inched closer to Winston. He would have retreated a few steps back if it weren't for his shattered toe. "And instead of finding a solution to this problem, you instead find it appropriate to make a pun about it. A pun based on your own SPECIES no less."

"Alright Angela, that's enough venting for now." Fareeha dragged her by the elbows before she could start foaming. "Okay, all puns aside," she glared at Winston, "we need to figure out our next course of action."

"I'm guessing it's to pull out our local baldy," suggested McCree. "We got any ideas, or are we blank?"

Genji's prosthetic limb shot up. "I have an idea."

McCree grunted in annoyance. "If it involved disintegrating the sea with that arm cannon o'yours, then lower your hand."

"You are mistaken. I do not plan to disintegrate the ocean."

"Oh, thank go-"

"Not I alone. Instead, it will be a joint effort. If Genos and I combine our firepower, we could create a hole in the ocean large enough to reach Master Saitama."

Genji's ability to keep a stable mind was one of the many things the Overwatch team valued about the ninja. Something that seemingly vanished when he acquired his new 'addition'. Namely his cybernetic arm that Genos unfortunately made the mistake of loaning him. Everyone had been hopeful that he would eventually grow out of it, but their hopes, just like now, have been repeatedly dashed.

And a certain doctor had reached the boiling point of dashed hopes.

Angela's raised an arm. "Fareeha, hold him down. I'm sawing off that arm."

"With pleasure."

Genji flinched. "Wait what?"

Everyone else pretended not to notice the screams in the background. Nor did they assume to hear the sounds of a glowing blade sawing through Genji's shoulder. As Winston continued nursing his shattered toes, Genos inched over to McCree.

"Should… we do something about that?" he asked.

"Nah. Just let it be." He pulled out another cigar, nodding thankfully when Genos lit it for him. "Sides' shouldn't we be thinkin' 'bout that?" He tilted his head towards the moonpool.

"My master is strong. We need not worry. He is not the kind of person who can be so easily defeated by water."

McCree couldn't help but find that amusing, and so he let out a light chuckle. "Heh. Guess that's one way of lookin' at it." He tossed his cigarette butt to the side. No point polluting the deep blue. "Sorry. The mood's been… kinda weird ever since we pulled you two onboard. Truth be told I actually do enjoy moments like these. 'Specially when I have to think about that damn meeting."

Genos couldn't help but notice how McCree's metal fist tightened up. "Pardon?"

"That meeting we were supposed to have in New York. It was delayed for uh, obvious reasons." Then again, Demon-level threats were as obvious as 'reasons' could get. "Chances are, the components of that meeting are gonna become part of the Summit."

"...The Summit, you say?"

"Yup. The Summit." Just thinking about it made him internally wretch. But he might as well bring it up now instead of later. "It's basically a meeting involving the leaders of the world, in regards to large-scale events that have occurred over the past five years or so. That's coming in around two months or so."

"I see." The sounds of screaming became less relevant when compared to this. "So the assault on Caligo, and the destruction of New York…"

"Yup. Talk of the town. It won't be a stretch to say that it's all gonna be the talk of the town." His gaze shifted over to the moonpool. "That's gonna be a hell of a discussion, whether we like it or not. The tides have turned, and Overwatch is at the center. For better or for worse."

Genos opted to remain silent. As someone who worked diligently for the Hero Association, his task always remained simple. Find the monsters, and eliminate them. It was easy to discern the enemy when their goals were simple.

But Overwatch? Overwatch handled things differently. They were a peacekeeping organization. And that didn't necessarily translate to finding the bad guy and burning them into a fine crisp. There was a lot of politics involved, a lot of different perceptions regarding certain matters. Perceptions that sometimes could even earn his sympathy. And thus, there were a lot of different ways to handle those kinds of situations, and perhaps even more to botch them up.

McCree glanced at him. "Y'know, I know you aren't keen about that plan the others wanna put into action. The one where we basically give you all the credit and BS your backstory. That plan."

"You know about that?" Genos raised an eyebrow.

"Yup. I'm not exactly on the side of the law if you get my point. I think what Jack and Fareeha don't get is that… justice isn't always clear-cut. The law's not absolute; I'd know that for sure. I guess I couldn't stop you from going rogue, but that's if I wanted to in the first place."

"Going rogue? What do you mean? Why do you think I would go rogue?" Where was this all coming from?

"We were shut down for a reason. I want to know that reason, but no one's giving me answers. All I know is that there're people who want us to stay in the shadows. But I think I've found myself on the field, you know what I mean? It's where I belong. Not sure what you'd know about belonging but…" he spat onto the floor, "somehow I doubt you belong in the shadows, watching from the sidelines. That's just not you. Especially not you."

He did have a point. His intentions may not have been clear from the start, as he primarily put vengeance first. The results were the same, but not the intentions. But regardless of intentions, he did make it his duty to eliminate the monster threat.

"I suppose you're right. I can't imagine sitting idly while people need help," something his master helped teach him. "Is that what it was like for you, when Overwatch was shut down?"

"Yeah. Pretty much. Real bummer, I know." He grinned. "Just… be on your guard when the time comes. Someone's gonna twist what it means to be hero sooner or later. Or maybe they already have. I wouldn't know. But if they have a role model like, say, a teenage cyborg who can decimate entire rows of omnics with a flick of his finger, well, maybe there's a bit of hope. Just a bit."

Genos pondered his words. If he did accept the role, if he did accept the position he'd be in, would he be able to live up to that kind of expectation?

"I'll do my best." It was all he could offer. Something that McCree found all too amusing.

"Heh. I'm getting old for this kind of stuff." But not old enough to run out of cigarettes. "By the way, I think they're done over there. You can probably get your spare arm back if you want."

"Oh, right. Thanks."

* * *

"And that's the story. Of how everything went through hell." John Dough concluded his story by slamming his palms on the floor, like some kind of ritual. "You get all that, soldier?"

"Huh? Wha-?" Saitama forced his eyes open. How long was he asleep? And what was he doing again?

Oh, right. He was listening to this lame ass story about lizard-microwave hybrids or something like that. Boredom quickly seeped its way into his mind, and part of him began to believe that this place was indeed hell, and that hole he was dragged into was the gateway.

"Ever since the crew mutinied from a lack of food and ate those meatb- I mean, unlisted substances, they transformed into those… things." Mann shivered upon remembering it.

"You mean the blender-lizards," corrected John.

"Are you actually going to contribute anything useful to this conversation, or do I have to confiscate your frying pan?" Mann sneered.

John hugged his frying pan, as though his life depended on it, and angrily pointed at Mann. "You will never take my frying pan! Nor will you take my virginity!"

"...What?" Saitama tilted his head.

"Ah, yes. You're a newbie to that tale. It all started when-"

"I don't wanna know. Please stop talking."

"Okay, that's enough storytime for now. Or ever, for that matter." Mann pulled himself to his feet. The way he glared at John made Saitama think that John may have shoved that particular tale down his ear holes. "What are you gonna do now that you're here, Saitama?"

Saitama cupped his chin. "Hm, well, I guess the first thing I wanna get out of the way is getting that Australium back to base. Then um…"

"Back to base?" echoed Mann. "Are you enlisted in the army? You don't look enlisted."

"Er, I'm enlisted in Overwatch. Does it count as an army if it has a gorilla?" he wondered.

"You're with Overwatch?!" he exclaimed. His eyes widened with recognition. "Hoodie kid? Is that you?!"

...Wait what? "Hoodie kid?"

Mann glanced at him a moment, before calming down. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly "Er, sorry. There was someone in my past who… nevermind." Saitama blinked a few times. That was certainly weird, to say the least. "So… if you're with Overwatch… does that mean you're here to rescue us?"

"Well, I can if you want me to. But I actually came here to get some Australium so we can get the money to pay our electricity bill."

"The hell kind of financial crisis did they put themselves in to send one man into the depths of the ocean to find a rare material they're not even sure exists?" Even Mann had difficulty finding the legitimacy in his own statement.

Saitama scratched his nonexistent hair. "Well, I dunno. I'm just a part-timer after all."

"...No point searching for answers that don't exist, I guess. Australium in that corridor. Good luck getting past those monsters. There's only like, what? A hundred of 'em?" He jabbed his thumb at the metal door, the one John was previously hammering with his frying pan.

Saitama gave Mann a curious glance. "How'd you manage to trap them all in there anyway?"

He pointed at John. "He offered to act as bait. Probably the only good thing he had going for him."

"I have no idea what that means but I know it was an insult," John stated, though he mostly went ignored.

"So all the Australium's in there, huh?" Saitama tapped the viewing glass, aggravating the lizard-blender hybrids waiting inside. "Guess my job's finally become simple." He cocked his fist back.

Mann and John simultaneously fondled their chin hairs. What exactly was he planning?

They got their answer when a massive shockwave nearly threw them to the ground. They shielded their eyes, lest the wind impede their eyesight. Or Mann's eyesight, rather. For once, John's eye-covering headwear actually served a purpose. He made a mental reminder to tell Helen that she lost the bet and that she now had to eat a shoe.

Once the air pressure from the shockwave died down, Mann unshielded his eyes to pinpoint the cause of the shockwave, because no way was that one of those earthquakes from outside. All he saw was Saitama standing there with his fist outstretched. For some reason, his fist was smoking, and for some reason, the corridor they locked down was now a series of holes bending inwards. That was without mentioning the pile of guts and shattered pieces of blenders strewn about.

As a physician and a part-time teacher at one point, he could easily put two and two together, unlike a certain frying pan-obsessed moron.

"...Huh. Was not expecting that." Aizic D. Mann finally said. Right now being dumbfounded was Helen's job, as Saitama was now casually strolling through the gut infested hallway. He nudged John's elbow, awakening him from his temporary coma. "Get up, will you?"

"I have been trying to get up for the last ten seconds. However, I think my legs may be- oh, wait, nevermind. It was just the tortellini. It wasn't mixing well with that Atomic Punch."

Mann ignored him, and quietly followed Saitama into the formerly infested hallway. At first he was put off by the guts and blender shards for a total of two seconds, before concluding that they were just that; guts and blender shards. And not even the good model of blenders, no, these were clearly from the shelves of the dollar store.

The hallway continued for a bit, though it felt much longer since all three of them were making a simultaneous effort to not get guts on their soles. They were glad to finally reach the end of the hallway, but Saitama couldn't help but feel underwhelmed.

"This is all the Australium?" he asked with a bit of disappointment. There were a total of three shelves of Australium, most of which were in the form of various weapons. There were six weapons in total.

So obviously, the first person to have the biggest reaction would be none other than John Dough, who immediately hugged the first Australium weapon he got his hands on.

"Gotta admit, this is pretty shallow for a vault." Mann casually stated as he stepped over the torn vault door. "Maybe there's more in the other rooms. I wouldn't know."

"Dangit. I guess this'll have to do then." Hopefully it would suffice. John seemed pretty intent on keeping his frying pan. And if they couldn't get Gibraltar's wifi up and running, they were all going to be doomed.

KAPOOYAH

Thankfully, Mann happened to be standing behind Saitama. That meant he was completely shielded from the random explosion that riddled the wall.

Saitama, of course, was also fine. Except for the fact that his entire frontside was now covered in soot.

Mann peered over Saitama's shoulder and gave John the sternest glare he could muster.

"...Whoops. It was not on safety." he said meekly as he cradled the bazooka in his hands.

"I'm *cough* beginning to question how you all survived down here for so long," Saitama was said through gnashed teeth. He spat out some soot and flapped his arms to clear away the smoke.

None of them were expecting to see what was on the other side of John's bazooka-made hole.

Stacks upon stacks of Australium ingots lined every nook and cranny of the hidden room. On top of those stacks were small Australium statues, lined up neatly on each stack. Even the walls were coated with Australium. But it was what lied at the center of the room that really grabbed their attention.

A massive rocket sat on top of an Australium pedestal, with fins and a tip imbued with even more Australium. Metal cranes extended from the side to keep the rocket in place, and a shuttle door was fixed in the ceiling. All of which, of course, was made with Australium.

Saitama stared at the rocket. Then he stared at Mann. He stared at the rocket. He stared at Mann.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Mann.

"I think I'm thinking what you're thinking," he thought out loud.

"Just tell me what you're thinking, dammit. I wanna make sure we're actually thinking the same thing."

"It has to do with all this Australium, right?" John butted in.

"Keep your mouth shut, John. The grownups are talking."

* * *

Watchpoint Caligo was known, or not known, rather, for its discrete location. Built into the side of a massive hill, it projected the sense that it was none other than that; a hill. And that was thanks due to some clever use of cloaking technology; technology Sombra was very familiar with.

It made it all the easier to break in.

And now the hacker left the front door, a few hundred gigabytes heavier. She grinned as she ran her fingers across the hard drive. It was gonna take all night to go through the footage from this baby. But it was going to be so worth it.

Of course, credit was due where it was due. She couldn't have accomplished this without her 'friends'. No doubt they were waiting at the car. Now all she needed to do was go there and-

She froze when she saw him. The man with the blue hoodie. He was waiting there, leaning on the wall of the 'hill'.

"...Oh. It's you." Well, she certainly wasn't expecting HIM to be here.

"Hey Olivia." he greeted casually. "Wanted to stop by."

"Hah. Funny. You're funny." She found herself leaning on the hill, along with him. "And what about those goons at my ride?"

"They have names, you know. You really do need to try and make friends. Actual friends." There he goes again, lecturing her on what to do and not to do. Besides, what she did with Tracer and those weird pals of hers was her business and her business alone.

"Heh. Friends. You drew a fire emblem on your hoodie with a red crayon. If I'm going to look for friendship advice it won't be from you," she sneered.

"Come on. It looks cool. You just don't want to admit it."

"It looks stupid." She placed special emphasis the last word. "But I guess I don't care. I'm guessing you came here to pick up my 'friends'."

"Yeah. More or less."

"Then what's stopping you?" Her palm pressed against her hip. "Don't tell me you just wanted to chat, after all these years?"

"Is there anything wrong with that?" he asked.

"...I've already done what I came here to do. You can have Tracer and her friends if you want." She looked away. There wasn't much point going face to face with a man with such naive ideals.

"...Just answer me one thing, Olivia. Is this life… fulfilling?" Fulfilling? Well, it wasn't really a weird question. It was him who was asking, after all.

"Yeah. Every day." There was no hesitance in her tone. No regrets. No shame. "And you? How's that whole hero jig holding up?"

"Fun, but it can be boring at times, I have to admit." There was a pause. "Guess that's the price of power, huh?"

"Mm-hmm." There was another pause, this one longer than the last. "I should probably go now before I get spotted. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Yeah. Bye, Olivia." And just like that, he vanished in an instant.

Sombra let out a sigh and trudged her way to her car. This was a fulfilling life. Nothing else could bring more excitement.

If only she could believe her own words as much as he did.

* * *

"Are you all ready for this?" asked Mann.

"I- oof… beg to differ, Administrator. It's- ugh… kind of crowded in here."

Indeed, no one could argue with Wentworth. The rocket seemed big until they tried to shove everyone into it. It then occurred to Mann that much of rocket's mass was directed towards its adjacent segments, the ones that stretched vertically.

"Is this… seriously the best shot we have at escaping?" Helen somehow managed to ask, even in this claustrophobic nightmare.

"Probably not. Let's just hope for the best." Mann's tone was commanding yet confident. "If you can, grab anything that's nailed to the floor." The huge crowd of people did just that, grabbing whatever they could, whether it be a handlebar or a window frame.

"...John, why are you grabbing my thighs?" asked Helen. "Pretty sure Aizic said 'nailed objects' only."

"Oh. Well judging from their size I thought otherwise."

John earned the 35th boot to the face that week. Which was impressive since it not only was a new record but because Helen barely had any leg space yet somehow still managed to leave a fine imprint on John's face.

"...Hey, isn't he coming?" A hand pointed to the bald man standing outside of the rocket.

Mann hummed for a bit. "Yeah, the thing is, there's more than enough Australium to power this rocket, but with the way the launch sequence is set up, we're bound to fly straight into a huge appendix. So we improvised."

"...Improvised?" The crew member's voice went unheard as the doors to the rocket closed automatically.

"You all good in there?" Saitama hollered through the door. They all groaned something in response, presumably from the fact that they didn't like being clustered together like this. Which made Saitama a little concerned for what he was about to do next.

Because if they didn't like that, then they REALLY wouldn't like this.

Saitama hopped off the stairs and felt around the bottom of the rocket until he found the small piece of tape left by Mann. What were his directions again? 'Find the piece of tape, then apply enough force to achieve manual liftoff'?

That sounded about right.

He lowered his palms under the piece of tape. He never really had a reason to try this, but…

 **"Killer Moves: Serious Series…"** With one thrust, both his palms shot up in an instant. A loud explosion followed, and for a moment the air ignited. **"...Serious Liftoff!"**

The force from his palms slammed against the bottom like a rampaging mammoth. The moment of unstoppable force passed, and the rocket vanished. Judging from the enormous hole in the corner of the ceiling, it wasn't hard to discern where it had gone.

"Well, I hope they're okay." He gazed at the hole, but right now it was impossible to tell where the rocket was at the moment. "Now, how do I get all this Australium out of here?"

◘ ︎ ︎ 📬︎ ⌧︎ ︎❒︎◆︎ ︎ ︎ ︎⧫︎ ︎■︎ ◘ ︎ ︎ 📬︎ ︎❖︎ 👌 ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎⧫︎ ︎■︎ ❄ 👌 ❒︎ ︎ ︎👎 □︎ ✌ □︎■︎ ❄ ︎❍︎

Huh? It was that voice again. Except… it was a lot clearer this time. Where was that voice coming from, though? And why did it sound… bothered?

◘❒︎ ︎❖︎ ︎■︎⧫︎💧 ✞💧 ❒︎□︎💣 ︎ ︎❖︎ ︎■︎ 📬︎ ︎ ︎ ︎❄ ︎💣📬︎ ❄ ︎ ︎ ✌❒︎ ❒︎ ︎ 📬︎

It… wanted him to fight something? But what, exactly?

😐■︎□︎⬥︎💧 ❄ ︎ ⬧︎ ︎ ︎◻︎ 📬︎ ︎ ︎ ︎❄ ︎💣📬︎ ︎●︎ ✌⬥︎ ︎🙵 ︎ ✟ ︎❒︎✡ 💧□︎□︎ 📬︎

...Okay, that made a little more sense. But first he needed to find a way out of here.

* * *

Angela firmly handed the hand to Genos. "I believe this is yours. Never loan it to anyone ever again."

"...Yes ma'am." Angela left without another word, leaving just the cyborg and his other Overwatch colleagues.

"I'm glad Winston isn't here." Fareeha stared at the water below. "He'd probably make a joke about how Genji is now disarmed."

McCree lifted his hand from the railing. "I could do it for him."

"I will order Genos to incinerate you." If Fareeha was joking (which she only did around people she liked) she did a good job of hiding it.

"Ooh. Ordering your underlings to handle your personal problems. Now that's character development right there." McCree raised his hands mockingly. "'Sides, last I checked, Genos here was a part-timer."

"Part-timer?" echoed Fareeha. "Field duty isn't something that's a part-time job. Or do things work differently in your so-called home dimension?" She looked at Genos for answers.

"Yes and no. I tend to save my incineration cannons for monsters and telemarketers." Genos elaborated.

"What's the difference between those two?" McCree wondered out loud.

"They both seek to destroy humanity through underhanded means, but one is of supernatural origin while the other is generally from a family of tax collectors."

"Ah. I see." He put another cigar in his mouth so he could properly intake his completely logical assessment.

"Reinhardt did mention something about monsters in your world. Are there really supernatural entities from where you come from?" Fareeha leaned her elbow against the railing. McCree couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her words.

"You actually believe that stuff?" he asked.

"Hey, I'm just curious." She shrugged. Genos pursed his lip. How exactly could he describe monsters in general?

"Well, I suppose it's kind of like-"

A loud splash caught their attention. They all looked with surprised expressions at the sudden cluster of foam rising from the ocean.

"Is it a dolphin?" McCree peered under his palm, but he could not find any dolphin whatsoever.

"What the… what's that?" Fareeha pointed to the sky. Genos' visor scanned the area until he spotted an object soaring into the distance. He zoomed onto the object, immediately performing a scan on its features.

"...A rocket?"

"It's a rocket? What?" McCree's expression was one of perplexion.

"It appears that way," replied Genos. What was a rocket doing all the way out here? More importantly, why was its composition so strange? It appeared to be made of gold, but his scans stated that the composition was something completely different.

Wait a minute. Could it be…?

Before he could ponder this further, something else caught his attention in the form of rising sea foam. The three Overwatch agents watched in perplexion as bubbles continued to rise to the surface of the water, right where the rocket exited. Then it mysteriously came to a stop.

The ocean's surface erupted once again, an even larger pillar of foam shooting into the high heavens. It lingered in the air for quite a bit, until it finally subsided by spreading out into a light drizzle that pattered against the three spectators.

"What the hell is going on?!" Angela rushed to the Overboat's roof along with the others. Everyone stopped in their tracks when they realized what was causing all the commotion.

A massive creature in the shape of a massive barnacle revealed itself from the curtain of water. From it sides sprouted an array of tentacles several miles wide, each one tipped with some kind of sharp tendril. At the very center rested three giant heads, with each head sporting a mask with a different expression. The first two seemed to have contorted happy and sad faces, whereas the third didn't seem to have a face at all.

All three heads focused on the small group aboard the Overboat, easily towering over them by at least ten stories. Then their masks began to glow eery colors, and a disgusting groaning sound echoed throughout the creature's expression before multiple veins popped on its various tentacles.

Was it happy? Was it sad? They had no idea. They did know one thing, however.

"We're screwed."

It was Hana who pointed out this obvious fact.

* * *

Ana took a sip of her tea and relaxed her arms on her lap. Her eyes remained focused on the monument before her.

︎🕯︎❒︎ □︎ ︎■︎ □︎❍︎ ︎📪︎ 💧□︎□︎■︎📪︎ ✌■︎✌📬︎ ◘●︎ ︎ ︎⬧︎ ❄ ︎●︎ ❄ ︎ ︎❄ 💣 ︎ ❄ ︎ ︎❄ ✌❒︎ ❄ ︎ ︎■︎🙵 ︎◆︎ □︎ ❖︎ ︎❒︎⍓︎⧫︎ ︎ ︎■︎ 📬︎

She looked up at the voice. "So it's finally time, hm?"

* * *

Alira stared at the cells in her silvery palm. These cells were the key to victory. This world would soon know chaos and strife beyond comprehending. And Akande was vital to her plans.

She watched Tulric unleash a torrent of lasers into the ocean, just barely missing the seaward vessel. Something large and fiery appeared on the side of the boat.

"Soon," she muttered with a clenched hand. Then she walked into a mirror, her reflection vanishing not long after.

* * *

On the shore of the beach, a certain rocket impaled the sand with its tip. Smoke drifted off of its thrusters, and char painted the entire underside of the rocket black. Few would come to understand that this marvelous piece of technology had recently become victim to the Serious Series.

Someone kicked the door off its hinges. It was none other than John Dough, who somehow managed to crawl his way out through the massive pile of crew members. He leaped out of the upside-down rocket and immediately started kissing the sand.

"Freedom! Sweet freedom at last!" His freedom was short-lived, however, when a bunch of other people accidentally landed on him, forming another cluster of bodies. Wentworth was smart enough to hop out of the rocket rather than leap.

"Well, that was certainly interesting." She did a few stretches to relieve herself of the cramps. "Is everyone alright?"

They all groaned in response.

"Is this a dream?" Helen wondered as she walked down the small hill of crewmates. "Are we actually outside?"

"Don't think it's a dream. But calling it heaven wouldn't be far fetched either," said Mann as he took a few steps across the beach. It had been so long since he had experienced actual sunlight, that seeing it across the ocean's horizon was such a relieving experience. Their escape was unorthodox for sure, and they'd have to contact someone eventually to integrate back into society.

But as they all gathered along the shore, right now they just wanted to watch the sunset with sand creeping between their toes. It was strange, missing sand of all things. But right they couldn't care less.

"INCOMING!"

And just like that, their peaceful tranquility was shattered when they saw something rushing towards the beach from the ocean. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be some kind of a hybrid between a boat and a submarine. But the last they checked, vehicles like those didn't move at breakneck speeds. That thing was splitting the water with how fast it was going.

Wait, what was up with that huge fire blasting from the back? Did they strap some kind of thruster to it?

Mann squinted. His eyesight hadn't improved at all over the years, but he could discern some kind of… teenage cyborg pushing the rear of the vessel?

"Genos! We're moving way too fast! We're gonna crash!" Fareeha desperately called out, as she grasped onto the railing for dear life. Everyone else did the same, except for Winston, who lying flat against the far end of the wall.

"What was that? I can't hear anything from back here." was his response.

"SLOW DOWN, DAMMIT!"

Whatever that creature was, it had unleashed a torrent of lasers upon them before they could even think. Genos had somehow used his thrusters to push the boat out of the way before the boat could get incinerated, and he obviously intended for them to get away as fast as possible.

What the cyborg didn't seem to get, however, was that the Overboat (or them, for that matter) were not equipped to handle moving at supersonic speeds.

"Don't worry! I have it handled!" Genos yelled back. Fareeha could only hope that he was right.

They all continued to hold on for dear life as the Overboat rocketed forward. Various items laid against the far wall along with Winston, like they had been glued there by some invisible force. Fareeha closed her eyes and prepared for the worst.

And just like that, the boat came to a halt. It slowed down enough so that the crew wouldn't become victim to inertia, something that they were grateful for.

Fareeha looked around at the messy Overboat, before asking, "Is everyone alright?"

"I think I broke something… again…" groaned Winston as he slid down the wall. No one could bring themselves to care about him right now.

They all jumped off the Overboat and onto the beach as soon as they could, save for Winston whose foot was still out of commission.

"Ugh. Not doing that again?" McCree spun his arm in a circle to see if he broke anything. When he was sure he didn't, he asked, "So now what?"

Hana looked at him weirdly. "What do you mean 'So now what?'"

He raised his arms in the air like it was obvious. "Well, in case you haven't noticed Cthulhu's probably coming for us right now. What's our plan of action?"

Angela hopped off the Overboat. She was the first person to recognize the figure coming toward her.

"...Helen?"

"...Angela?"

By now they all noticed the huge crowd of people coming from the other side of the sea vessel. They all muttered amongst each other as they recognized several people in the crowd. The scene turned rather awkward.

"...Y-You're all alive…" McCree couldn't believe it.

"Well, you better believe it cowboy," Mann replied.

As the crowd slowly broke the silence, Angela and Helen stared at each other. Neither of them expected to see each other. Not after so many years had passed. Not after that seaquake destroyed the Watchpoint, taking everyone inside with it.

"...Wow. You haven't changed a bit, Angela." Helen scratched her strands of hair. "I'm not just saying that either. You still look the same after all these years."

Angela glanced to the side, uncertain of how to absorb the sudden praise. "Th-Thanks Helen. I uh, I'd like to say the same, but-"

Helen's hands met her hips. "No point being lax about it, Angela. I'm one wrinkly bastard. No point trying to deny that."

They both shared a hearty laugh, one that was interrupted when someone suddenly called out,

"What is that thing?!"

By now they all spotted the multi-masked behemoth crawling towards them from the ocean. The sight was enough to drive most of the crew into a panic, save for several people.

For once, Helen actually looked concerned. "Um, Angela? What is-"

"I honestly have no idea," was her blunt response. Genos took this chance to leap from behind the boat, landing in the center of the crowd. His presence surprised many, as he left a small crater in the sand.

Fareeha was the first to run towards him. "What's the situation?"

Genos stared at the horizon, where the massive monster was seen and zoomed in on it. It was moving at a snail's pace, but with its massive size, it wouldn't be too long before it reached the coast. Who knows what kind of havoc it would wreak when it did.

He widened his eyes in surprise as a green line formed between two of its heads. Slime erupted from the tear, as the massive creature seemed to be ripping itself apart. What was it doing?

It yanked apart into two pieces, separating the part of its body with one mask. To his surprise, slime curled around the ripped parts, forming into new bits of flesh. Tentacles sprouted from those sides once they finished reforming, resulting in two massive tentacle creatures, one with a single mask and the other with two.

"It's bad. The Mysterious Being split," he announced, much to Fareeha's shock. "The larger one is staying put, but the other appears to be approaching the coast."

Fareeha's shocked demeanor vanished in place of a battle-hardened gaze. From the way Genos referred to it, it was obvious that he had experience dealing with creatures like this before; something she'd have to ask about later. But judging from the way he positioned himself, it was obvious that they shared the same goal.

Defend the city at all costs.

She rotated her wrist and slammed the button hidden under the strap of her watch. Genos watched the motion with a bit of curiosity.

"Torbjorn said it's for dire situations only," she elaborated. "I suppose now's a time as good as any. Reinhardt!"

"Yes ma'am!" he strolled over, towering over the other crew members.

"Initiate protocol 9999," was her order. Reinhardt's eyes widened, but he understood. Besides, he couldn't pass up an opportunity to be part of one his greatest battles yet.

"Angela, contact the local authorities. Have them get the evacuation up and running, then retrieve medical support for any incoming patients."

"Yes ma'am." She saluted before making herself scarce. Helen followed her.

"The rest of you get to safety. Hana, McCree, help with evac."

Hana raised her hand to protest. "But-"

"Not a good time, Hana." McCree interrupted. Hana wanted to say something in response, but instead she pouted and ran off with the rest of the crew members. McCree climbed his way back into the boat to grab Winston and McCree.

Mann approached them. His face was that of regret. "There isn't much I can do here, except wish you luck. Kinda wish our reunion could have gone a lot smoother, y'know?"

"Ha…! What are you talking about, Aizic? An epic battle is the perfect way to start off a reunion!" Reinhardt laughed. Mann frowned at his antics, before letting out a light chuckle. It seemed Angela wasn't the only one who didn't change much over the years.

"I'm gonna go help with evac. Don't die on me now." And like that, Mann ran off, leaving just Fareeha, Reinhardt, and Genos.

"Protocol 9999 has been initiated, Fareeha," said Reinhardt. Fareeha nodded in response, and placed a hand on Genos' metallic pauldron.

"Genos," she began. "Hold it off for the time being. We need a bit of time to set up. We're not going to stand on the sidelines like last time."

Genos nodded. It was remarkable how quickly Fareeha had managed to take control of the situation, despite the perilous danger present. But from the way her limbs slightly trembled, it was obvious that she was having a bit of difficulty handling the current situation. Not that he could blame her; this was the first time Overwatch was forced to deal with a Mysterious Being, one that was at least a Demon-level threat.

He silently praised Fareeha for forcing those feelings down and focusing on the bigger threat at hand. It was a testament to her leadership skills and a reminder that even in this world, despite not being nearly as powerful, there were still heroes who would rise up in the battle against evil.

Unfortunately, now was not the time for praise. He turned towards the ocean, where his opponent approached steadily.

"Understood. Do what you need to do; I will do everything in my power to halt its advance." Without another word, the metal panels on his shoulders unfolded. He leaped several feet into the air, his thrusters bursting to life. Then his core erupted with power, launching him forward like a rocket, his quarry coming closer and closer.

The ocean split in his wake, and the monster became clearer each second. When he felt that he was close enough, he changed the direction of his thrusters, launching him upward. The blast vaporized some water below him, causing the surrounding water to fizzle and sputter.

He stared at the masked monster, its larger half lurking miles behind it. It stared back with an eerie smile fixed on its bone-white mask, once that seemed to glow lightly. Though not as tremendous as its counterpart, its tentacles still boasted a massive size, one that rivaled skyscrapers.

But all appearances aside, it was a monster. And if the way it attacked them was an indication, it was bent on nothing less than destruction. Well, Genos would give it a taste of destruction.

He extended his arms forward, the metal unfolding to reveal the cannons underneath. Heat emanated off of their interior as they glowed bright orange. Once they were at full charge, Genos muttered a single word.

"Incinerate!"

The day he muttered that word would come to be known as the day that two sunsets dotted the skyline.

* * *

"This is Jonathan Young reporting in from Gibraltar. I-I don't know how else to say this, but there appears to be some kind of massive alien-like creature approaching the coast. Zoom in on it, will you Caleb? I've never seen anything like this!"

"It uh, it looks to be engaging in battle with… I don't know, really. It looks like someone's trying to fight the beast. Wait, are those lasers the creature is firing? Oh man, yeah, it looks like authorities are already evacuating citizens. That thing is at least ten stories high. There's a lot of stray fire going everywhere, as you can see. A lot of it's hitting the coast or Heaven forbid parts of the city. W-We'll try and keep everyone updated, but I really don't think we should fly any closer to that thing right now. Hey uh, Caleb, can you-" Jack's hand accidentally knocked the radio off the table, and it hit the floor with a thud. It didn't break, however, the land did hit the off button.

Jack craned his neck as he pulled himself off the chair. What was he doing again? Oh right. Their satellite. They lost it after a certain… accident, and he felt the need to sleep off all the stress after witnessing that particular event firsthand.

He walked outside, letting out a loud yawn. His eyes glazed around the area, the emptiness letting an imaginary tumbleweed rolling across the platform.

"Hello? Anyone home?" No reply. Where did everyone go? Maybe the laboratory?

He began making his way there. He wasn't exactly the leader of this group, per se, but he still had a job to do. And that involved coaxing Hana to pull another 'student loan' to pay for their electricity bill. Once they found a way to expand their operations, they could probably get some funding to pay her back. Probably. But right now they-

His hand reached for his Pulse Rifle, only to grab air. Stupid. Now how was he supposed to deal with the hooded figure standing before him?

"...Hello Jack." What? He knew who he was? Only then did he notice the slumped forms carried on the man's shoulders. He gently set them down, allowing him to recognize their forms.

Tracer, Hanzo, and Mei. They were supposed to be on a mission at Watchpoint Gelus. What exactly…?

"Who are you?" demanded Jack. But the hooded figure simply turned away. "Answer me!" The mysterious man glanced towards him. Much of his face was obscured with shadow, but he could see part of his mouth. He seemed…. Regretful.

"Sorry. I have to go now." He was leaving? How did he even get in here in the first place? "Tell Ana I said hello."

He vanished before he could get any answers. Just who was that man?

Something screeched in the distance, shaking him out of his stupor. He rushed towards the edge, eyes widening when he witnessed the battle taking place.

* * *

Genos grunted in annoyance as he weaved through another volley of lasers, his frame accelerating at supersonic speeds. As he blurred past the multicolored rays, he boosted towards the creature, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He aimed his incineration cannon at the monster's head, but several tentacles rushed at him before he could fire.

"Machine Gun Blow!" He unleashed a volley of punches to blow back the charging tentacles. He managed to push them back, but there didn't appear to be any lasting damage.

"Tch." Time for something a bit more permanent. He aimed both his incineration cannons directly at its head. "Incinerate!"

Another blast of fire erupted towards the monster, but before it could reach it, a massive forcefield went up. His beam pushed against the forcefield, but it was futile. His beam died out, and he was forced to retreat a few leagues back.

This thing was definitely Demon-level, the way it managed to suppress his first incineration beam as well as his second. Why it was in this world of all places remained beyond him, but right now he and his master were the only ones capable of stopping it.

He did prove one thing, however. This thing was definitely trying to keep its head protected. He'd have to push through to get past its defenses, and aim for that weak spot.

Cracks erupted across the creature's tendrils, a bright light emanating from the seams. It appeared to be preparing another volley, this one bigger than the last. He boosted himself forward just above the water, once again weaving through the many lasers that blasted towards him. Their encompassing size made them difficult to dodge, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

Still, with this many lasers firing at him, going on the offensive would be difficult. He pursed his lip in frustration. He'd have to take care of those tendrils if he wanted to proceed.

Rapidly he launched small bursts of incineration beams at one tendril, while simultaneously boosting across the surface of the water to avoid getting vaporized. He grunted in frustration as he was forced to juggle between dodging and firing, but his scans revealed that his assault did indeed have an effect. Massive clumps of burnt flesh fell away from the charred tendril. With one final concentrated burst of his incineration cannons, his burnt off the tendril entirely. The monster screeched in pain as the tendril splashed into the water.

One tendril down. Fourteen to go.

Genos remained undaunted as the monster continued screeching, but then it suddenly stopped. Its face, or mask, rather, shifted to face Genos, as though it were assessing him as an actual threat. Good. As long as its attention was on him, he could analyze its movements and also give the city time to evacuate. Two birds with one stone.

Cracks spread across its many tentacles as it prepared another volley. He prepared himself to dodge but was surprised when the lasers shot inward instead of outward. He looked closer to see that the lasers were converging on one point, forming a small ball of condensed energy. The ball continued to grow and expand until it was the size of a meteorite.

Then, without warning, the monster launched the ball directly at him. Genos poured more power into his thrusters, shooting himself upward to avoid the condensed energy projectile. For such a large projectile, the creature launched it at such a breakneck speed, that even Genos had difficulty avoiding it. He felt his legs burn up just from being close to the energy projectile, but his systems stated that no severe damage was dealt.

He stopped in midair. This thing could dish out laser volleys, yet also gather its firepower and combine it into a single shot for more damage. That was something he would have to keep in mind while fighting it. As he kept himself airborne with his thrusters, he prepared his cannons once more, aiming them at-

"Shit!" He didn't consider where that projectile might be headed! He snapped his head around, and saw that the ball was heading straight for the coast! He put his thrusters into overdrive, desperate to get there as soon as possible, but it was too late.

The ball struck the coast, erupted into a massive flash of light. Genos could only watch in horror as a sphere of light expanded outward, engulfing everything in its path. After several seconds it vanished, leaving a massive crater in the ground. With trembling limbs, he activated his scanner.

...No casualties. He let out a sigh of relief. The evacuation was proceeding nicely. But if the creature launched another blast like that, they might not be so lucky this time.

And it appeared that the creature was intending to do just that. It already had another decently-sized ball of energy prepared between its tendrils. Genos didn't have any choice; if the creature was planning to attack the city again he'd have to take the attack head-on.

The creature launched the ball of energy once more, prompting Genos to fire off a massive beam of fire. The two forces of energy collided, the force enough to create ripples in the air and water.

Genos grunted. This thing was actually pushing him back a bit. He poured more energy into his cannons, until finally-

He dived to the side to avoid getting skewered by another volley of lasers. He didn't even notice the tendril stretching beside him! He looked back in dismay as the ball approached the coast, and Genos couldn't do anything about it.

No, he had to try something. He couldn't reach it fast enough, but maybe if he fired his incineration cannon right, he could deflect the projectile upwards. It was the best plan he had at the moment. Once more his boosters went into overdrive, and he kept the ball of energy in sight as he closed in on the shore within seconds. He aimed his cannon upwards, and-

He watched as a massive forcefield in the shape of a wall shot skywards, covering the entire beach. The ball collided with the giant forcefield with a large bang, erupting into another sphere of light. But when the sphere subsided, Genos watched in awe as the forcefield stood tall.

The Demon Cyborg rushed towards the beach, landing beside what he assumed to be Reinhardt in a massive coat of armor, except this one was quite different from the last. Rather than sporting a silver gleam, this set of armor was bronze through and through. Sharp blue spikes of energy extended through his knuckles and his boots, and his massive visor glowed a brilliant turquoise.

All in all, it was a feat of engineering that could be rivaled only by Dr. Kuseno.

"Reinhardt," called Genos. He hid his awe, if only for the sake of the city. "I assume that was your doing. You have my thanks."

"Ha…!" he laughed, as the massive shield shrunk into the circular protrusion fixed on the back of his hand. "What are you talking about? I LOVE doing this!"

"What armor is that?" wondered Genos. Reinhardt grinned and thumped his hand on his chest.

"Torb calls it the Hydra. It's a special piece of engineering I tell you! It was designed to stop entire warheads!"

"Entire warheads?" echoed Genos.

"You got that right, Genos, my friend! Unfortunately, as powerful as it was, he couldn't find a suitable power source for it. I thought I could run it for about five minutes, but it turns out, Wentworth from the Mariana team had with her a special material that could keep this baby fueled!"

Genos eyes widened. "The Australium?"

"Yup! Whoops." He put up the massive shield once more to stop the volley of lasers coming their way. "Guess Winston was right about all that stuff. I hope his toes are okay."

"He had it coming. We all knew he had it coming. Besides, there are more important matters we need to deal with right now." They turned in time to witness Fareeha land on the sand beside them, donning a set of armor with a color scheme similar to Reinhardt's. Genos didn't need his scanners to sense it; he could literally see the energy radiating off her armor. "The Dire Drake, if you're wondering. Torbjorn had this in his garage in case of Omnic Titans. I guess this is a bit different, but I doubt anyone'll complain." They nodded at that. "I'll have to thank Wentworth for that Australium frying pan. Not sure where she got it though."

Genos lowered his head in shame. "I apologize. I couldn't stop the Mysterious Being from-"

"Stop." Fareeha grabbed his shoulder before he could bow any further. "There was literally nothing you could do. You've done a remarkable job of defending the city." She lifted her visor and smiled at him. Genos nodded, appreciative of her support.

"Thank you Fareeha," he said.

"Call me Pharah for now. You can call me Fareeha once we're done with this mess."

"Hey, I'm not against the whole bonding experience, but I could use a bit of support here," Reinhardt remarked as he held off another volley of lasers.

"Right. Genos, what are we up against here?" Fareeha asked curtly.

"Demon-level Mysterious Being. That means it is capable of causing massive damage to or even destroying an entire city. It can fire multiple lasers and combine them for a powerful shot. It has repeatedly made attempts to defend its head, but so far I have only succeeded in taking out one tendril. Oh, and it can create forcefields to defend itself as well."

Fareeha nodded as she absorbed all of this information. "So the best way to deal with it is to take out the head, correct?"

"Yes. However, its tendrils are powerful. I doubt we can take out its head without weakening it first."

Fareeha- Pharah, rather, nodded once more. "That's going to be difficult if it's capable of conjuring forcefields. Do you have any suggestions?"

Genos cupped his chin. His battle of endurance against the monster was in vain; it easily managed to suppress most of his attacks. It still had many tendrils to make up for its lost appendage, compared to him, who spent a chunk of his core's power mostly dodging attacks and launching assaults that ultimately did little.

He couldn't take the creature head-on. He had to find a way to damage it otherwise. But how?

He glanced at the creature in the distance. He watched as it trudged through the water. An idea came to mind.

"There may be a way after all," he said as Pharah listened intently. "But I'll need you to slow down the monster's advance."

* * *

Angela carefully carted the patient to the ambulance, nodding to the nurse as they proceeding to lift him into the vehicle. Another patient down. Only countless more to go.

Angela wiped a sweat off her forehead. The evacuation was going nicely, but it was definitely taking a toll on her stamina. The constant rumblings and explosions she heard in the distance didn't ease her stress at all. She could only hope Genos was doing well to protect the city; she hadn't expected they would need his assistance again so soon.

As for her, she needed to do her part. Her fatigue she would deal with once this was all over.

"Yo! What's up with all the doom and gloom? Come on now, turn those frowns upside down!" Like a river breaking through a dam, she felt her stress get washed away upon seeing a familiar face approach in the distance.

"Lucio!" She greeted him with a hug. Just hearing his ambient music made her feel ten times better. "I'm so glad you're here! How'd you get here so quick?"

The upbeat musician grinned. "Didn't have to! I was already here." Angela seemed confused by this, so he elaborated. "Overwatch was involved in a lot of weird stuff lately. First, there was that Omnic Titan randomly exploding, then all of New York City teleports outside for some reason. I finished healing up most of those peeps down in NYC, so I thought I'd head to Gibraltar since that's where you guys were heading. So let me ask this. Why…" he grabbed her shoulders, "...are there two Cthulus approaching from the ocean?!"

Baldness was the first thing that came to mind. "Er… it's kind of a long story."

"Long story?!" Lucio reeled back. "Doc, this 'bout to be the biggest story in history! But nevermind that, guess we'll have to get all these patients out first. We'll somehow find a way to deal with… whatever the heck is coming towards the city."

"Thanks, Lucio, I really appreciate it," she said, before adding confidently, "But you needn't worry about that monster. We have it handled." Lucio gave her a baffled look.

"...'We have it handled'? There is a literal tentacle monster shooting lasers everywhere, and you're telling me that you've got that thing covered?" Angela simply nodded in response. Lucio, for one, felt a bit bewildered, but if Angela of all people managed to stay calm about this, then, "Okay. I believe you. Where's this sudden boost of confidence comin' from anyway?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular." She glanced to the side with a smile. "I suppose it's easier to say that we have friends in high places."

* * *

Pharah hovered far into the sky in her Dire Drake, observing the monster from above. She also observed how the other monster remained stationary, the one with two masks. Why it was doing that she didn't know, but she couldn't rely on it to stay motionless forever. She had no idea how these 'Mysterious Beings' behaved in general, but she had to assume the worst and think that it had something planned.

Meaning the best case scenario was to divert the smaller creature's attention. It was already getting dangerously close to the shore, and Reinhardt's enhanced Fire Strikes weren't nearly enough to put down the monster for good.

She deactivated her thrusters, activating her visor as she let herself dive down towards the ocean with breakneck speed.

Her visor turned turquoise as the multiple reticles locked onto its various tentacles, each one beeping to give confirmation.

"Targets locked. Alright, you ugly mug. Let's see if you can handle this volley." She slammed the button on her wrist, prompting multiple parts of her body to open up, revealing a series of cannons similar to those of her Raptora. However, the payload was a bit different.

She felt her descent slow as a series of missiles launch from her body, each one glowing white. The suit launched energy projectiles instead of standard missiles, something that would put aside the need to reload in exchange for having an extreme strain on power. Guess Torbjorn proved her wrong when he said he'd find a suitable power source for it eventually.

The creature screeched in surprise as it took the brunt of the missile barrage. It quickly responded by setting up a forcefield around its head. Genos was right; it was more focused on protecting its head than the rest of its body. Even when she deliberately targeted its tendrils. If anything, that just proved its hypothesis.

She let her missile barrage continue for a bit, then checked the gauge. 90% power. She stopped the barrage, letting the various missile compartments close. She didn't need to do any more damage right now; she had gotten the monster's attention.

Pharah altered her missile targeting sequence just as the monster unleashed a torrent of lasers. The missile compartments opened up once more, but instead of targeting the monster, it made the various lasers their priority. More missiles launched from her suit, colliding with the various lasers.

Multiple explosions littered her vision, the sight making her swallow. This suit wasn't nearly enough to put her on the same level as Genos; his reaction time and power were still far beyond anything they could achieve. However, she trusted in its ability to keep her protected, since her ability to dodge was based on her reaction time. And she wasn't sure how she'd fare against the speed of lasers.

"Warning: high energy spike detected." Shit. That was her cue to move. She flew to the side, just barely avoiding a condensed energy ball. Suddenly she felt herself being thrown towards the ocean as she heard the ball explode somewhere in the clouds. Damn! Could it detonate those projectiles remotely?

She spun around for a few seconds before autopilot managed to stabilize her. The monster had no intention of giving her time to relax, however, when she suddenly got blasted to the side by another laser.

"Ugh!" Her side suddenly felt sore. At best that had bruised her; without the armor, she definitely wouldn't have survived. But she had to keep flying, lest she gets shot again. Not something she wanted to go through.

Her missile cannons went to work again, launching more volleys to suppress the incoming lasers. However, the volley had decreased noticeably. It took her a second to realize that two of her missile compartments weren't working.

"Damage report?" she asked her AI, while more explosions took place in the background.

"Hull integrity compromised by 17%. Missile compartment A is slightly damaged. Missile compartments B and E heavily damaged and unable to operate." Damn. That blast took a lot more out of her than she initially thought. She really needed to keep her guard up.

"Fareeha! Watch out!" Reinhardt yelled through her communicator.

"Huh? Whoa!" She leaned left to avoid the green tendril. Unfortunately, she wasn't spared from the volley of lasers. She took a few to the chest, not able to fend them off at point-blank range, before flying backwards. As she flew her missile cannons fended off the lasers, though from this distance she could practically feel the explosions rattling her suit.

She breathed in a few times. That attack definitely broke something; Angela would have a fit when she saw her. The outstretched tendril prepared to fire off another volley, but not before several massive waves of fire crashed into the tendril, forcing it back. The creature dipped the flaming tentacle into the water, instantly easing the damage.

"Thanks, Reinhardt." She waved towards the beach, though she doubted if Reinhardt could actually see her.

"No problem Fareeha! I may be beached but that doesn't mean I can't be of assistance."

Pharah grinned. "Alright Rein, let's keep it up!" The two of them unleashed volley after volley, battering the monster with fire strikes and energy missiles. The creature reeled back in shock as explosions riddled its body.

It finally snapped, raising one tentacle into the air. Pharah prepared her targeting sequence to suppress another volley, but to her surprise, the cracks that formed along the tendril continued spreading. The tendril glowed brighter and brighter, eventually forcing Pharah to shield her visor with her arm.

"...Rein? What's it doing?"

"Pharah! Get out of there!"

His warning came too late, however, as the tendril exploded violently. A wave of light slammed into Pharah, causing her to retch. The world around her spun, and she felt something rise in her throat. Not a good sign.

Her fall was suddenly disrupted when her back hit something hard. Then something massive wrapped around her body, which she soon realized to be one of the monster's tendrils. She squirmed in its grasp to no avail, and soon she found herself staring at the eerie smile of the Mysterious Being, who was now two tendrils short.

To think that this creature would actually sacrifice one of its tentacles to take her out… it was definitely something else. There was little time to ponder this, however, when the tendril started to crush her body. She held back a scream as the metal started bending inward.

"FAREEHA!" Rein yelled.

But then the monster's grasp suddenly released, followed by a screech of pain. Pharah wasted no time in maximizing her thrusters' power, eager to put a few kilometers between herself and the creature. When she finally looked down, she couldn't help but smile.

The sea creature writhed in agony as the ocean bubbled around it. It's writhing did little to ease the pain, as the boiling hot water began to take its effect on its undersides. Genos' plan worked like a charm, though she was quite concerned with how quickly Genos' managed to boil the ENTIRE bay.

"Hot Sea Hell!" Huh? Was that Genos' voice?

"Pardon?" asked Pharah.

"...Sorry. I was trying to come up with a decent name for this particular attack." She heard Rein laughing over the mic. "How does it sound?"

"...Okay, I guess. But please tell me you aren't planning to boil more bodies of water. I'm pretty sure we're all gonna be in deep water with Gibraltar's marine center after this."

"Hah! I see what you did there!" Pharah ignored Rein and watched the creature intently. Just as Genos' predicted, the forcefield vanished from its head. Since it was impossible for it to avoid the damage to its underside, it had no choice but to divert its forcefield there. It seemed that Genos was also right about the creature having a limited forcefield.

"Its head is clear, Genos. We have a clear shot." Pharah grinned.

"Thanks, Pharah. I'll take it from here." She heard something heavy and metal on the other side of the mic. Was that his incineration cannon? It sounded a bit different. Then everything turned silent save for a quiet hum.

Pharah blinked twice. "So when are you-"

 **"Ultra Spiral Incinerate!"**

Pharah's shock was well hidden by her visor, as she witnessed a massive beam of fire larger than every one she witnessed before erupt from the beach. Except, true to its name, it seemed to spiral at impossible speeds, to the point where trails of fire danced around the beam. The attack proved to be powerful enough to evaporate a huge segment of the ocean water just by being close to it, but its quarry stood no chance either.

The beam slammed into the creature's head at full force, enough to engulf it entirely. Its screeches were rendered completely mute by the sound of Genos' incineration cannon, and eventually, the screeches died out entirely. Finally, the beam subsided, a feat which by itself took more than minute. However, once it finally did, it revealed the monster completely headless. Char painted the area where its neck ended.

A few seconds passed before its barnacle-ridden body slumped forward, with all of its tentacles. Then it crashed into the boiling water hard enough to send a large wave towards the shore, one that Reinhardt easily blocked with his shield.

None of this stayed relevant, however, as their minds still lingered on the attack that evaporated part of the sea.

It was Reinhardt who broke the silence. "That. Was. AWESOME! You need to do that again sometime! You saw that right, Pharah? Pharah?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm here," she stammered. "That was certainly… different."

"HA…! Different you say? I think you could probably destroy the entire Atlantic Ocean with that attack! Does this suit have a camera installed? Please tell me it has a camera installed- actually, nevermind. Someone probably already recorded that. Dangit! I need that as my desktop background!" Pharah could practically hear Reinhardt shaking Genos' shoulder.

"Apologies for bringing the mood down, but there's still the bigger threat lingering in the distance," said Genos. Pharah shook herself out of her stupor, and gazed into the distance where the bigger Mysterious Being quietly floated.

"Genos is right, Rein. Although it hasn't made any attempt to attack, strange enough. Or even move for that matter." Somehow that put her even more on edge. "What do you think we should do Genos?"

"...Provoking it may not be the best option. Until it makes a move, maybe we should recuperate for the time being. Besides, my core power is pretty low. I'm not sure I can pull off that attack again, especially against a stronger opponent." It was a sound assessment. Not to mention her suit as well as she were pretty banged up. She saw the various dents and cracks in her armor, but she could feel that she had been bruised pretty badly. Great, this was really going to hit her once morning came.

She descended towards her colleagues, ready to patch herself up. The monster lingered far across on the horizon, unperturbed by the destruction of its sibling. As it lay there frozen, bits of magma and ice poured out of its many tendrils.

* * *

Saitama kept his breath held, as he stared at the massive floor of bouncy pads once again. It took him a bit to actually get here, and he was kind of peeved that his suit got wet again. But the sooner he got out of here the better.

Behind him, he carried a huge sack of Australium, one that was easily over a hundred times his size. Somehow he managed to find a cloth covering a huge alien spacecraft in one of the other rooms, which he managed to repurpose as a huge makeshift satchel. After that, he broke out of the facility and wandered around until he found the weird field of bouncy pads.

The water swished around him as he put his thinking cap on. Now, if he managed to recall what his physics professor said, a force was actually two forces, both of which were different but were actually the same in a way or uh…

Yeah. Something like that.

But basically, if he hit this quilt thing hard enough, it should theoretically bounce him hard enough to send him back to the surface.

So without further ado, he threw his fist against the purple pads, the impact creating cavitation bubbles. For a moment the water simply vanished, only for a massive cluster of fire to erupt from the small sphere of empty space.

Saitama flew. Or at the very least, he felt as though he were flying, because the moment after the quilt caved in, it immediately snapped back, slamming into his face. Not exactly painful per se, but still discomforting enough to make him shut his eyes. He kept a firm grip on his sack of Australium as he burst through the water like a swordfish strapped to a missile. He exited the soft glow emanating from the seafloor and plunged into the darkness of the water. But the darkness did not last long, because he soon found the light penetrating through the surface. And he could feel himself flying closer and closer to it, until…

He released his breath as he struck the border between the ocean and the air, finally glad to be free of his aquatic prison. Great, now all he had to do was deliver this sack of Australium before-

Huh? Why was there a huge octopus staring at him? And why was it wearing two masks?

❄ ︎ ︎⧫︎🕯︎💧 ❄ ︎ ◆︎ ︎❒︎ ︎ ︎ ︎■︎📪︎ ✡□︎✞ 👎◆︎❍︎ ︎ ︎⬧︎💧📬︎

...Oh, right. He almost forgot about that.

Much to his annoyance, the Guardian launched a volley of magma and ice directly at him, the two elements fusing into a spear that crashed into his stomach at full force. Before he knew it the world around him spun like crazy, yet despite his lack of aerial balance, he managed to stabilize himself just enough to see the target of his trajectory.

Which would be a city right off the coast. He let out a sigh.

This was REALLY gonna get his suit dirty.

Pharah seated herself on the seat, devoid of her armor which rested nearby. Genos had taken it upon himself to patch her up, since they needed Reinhardt to stay on guard if the other creature made any sudden movements.

There was one problem, however.

"Genos, have you actually done first aid before?" asked Pharah, as she looked at her arm. She was no medical expertise, but she was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to duct tape the bandage to the wound.

"I haven't," admitted Genos. "However, I did memorize the entirety of the wiki article about applying first aid."

"...Wiki article?" echoed Pharah, with disbelief in her eyes. It was strange how efficient Genos could be in battle and in the kitchen, yet remained completely clueless when it came to other matters.

She was about to tell him that she would apply the bandages herself, when a sudden explosion erupted in the distance. All three heads turned towards the ocean, just in time to see what appeared to be a giant bag fly in towards the city. They kept their gaze focused on the strange projectile, until it vanished somewhere in the city.

All three of them silently contemplated the strange sight, until Reinhardt finally said, "Erm, what was that?"

* * *

Saitama slammed into the ground at full force, his makeshift satchel landing right on top of him. Normally he wouldn't mind crashing into the pavement like this, but because his suit was soggy…

Ugh, gross. There's grime all over his suit. He felt disgusting.

He crawled out from under the satchel, ignoring the looks of bewilderment as he tried desperately to dust off his suit. Not exactly an easy feat when the dirt stuck to you like glue.

"...Saitama?"

He looked up. "...Oh, hi Angela." She was standing near an ambulance, carrying what appeared to be some medical supplies. Helping her was someone wearing headphones. Right now he was giving him the same bug-eyed look as everyone else.

"Er, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh yeah. I did that thing you guys asked me to do. The stuff's in the bag." He jabbed his thumb behind him, where his satchel rested nicely in a crater.

"Wait, are you referring to the Australium? That actually-"

"Yeah, uh, look I can't talk now," Saitama interrupted. "There's one more thing I need to take care of. Could you bring all that stuff back to the base or something? Thanks, bye." He vanished in a blur, kicking up a storm of dust in his wake. Lucio continued to watch him vanish into the distance along with the crowd.

"...Man, this day just keeps getting weirder and weirder," he finally said.

* * *

A slow rumbling echoed across the horizon. The three defenders from Overwatch looked up in surprise, staring past the charred corpse and towards the larger Mysterious Being. Their eyes widened, hardening as its tendrils lumbered around in a seemingly mindless manner.

Genos zoomed in on the creature. Oddly enough it was dipping several tendrils into the water below. A strange white mist rose from where the tendrils met the water. After a second of observation Genos noticed how the area around them rapidly crystallized.

The tendrils pulsated with energy before the area erupted into a fine mist. Genos peered across the massive cloud, lightly gasping in shock as a massive array of ice began to form over the water.

"It's freezing the ocean…" Genos muttered under his breath. The heat from the boiling water had subsided with time, but the bubbling vanished entirely when the crystals of ice expanded over the bay. Within seconds, the bay completely froze over, like an ice age suddenly felt aggravated by the ocean's presence.

The surprises didn't stop there, however. As the ice wrapped around the corpse, something strange occurred. The deceased monster began to evaporate at an alarming rate, its corpse transforming into some kind of green smoke. Eventually, the body vanished entirely, leaving nothing but a massive cloud of emerald smoke.

The cloud then drifted back toward its original body, pressing against its right half. Within a minute, the cloud transformed back into flesh, attaching itself to the main body. A new set of tendrils formed along its right half, a new head growing from the reformed clump of mass. The smoke drifted away, revealing a mask with the exact same smile as it had before.

Once again, the monster had three heads. Right now it was as large as it could ever be.

"Genos? What was that?" Pharah wondered with a worried countenance.

"It needed to cool the bay to safely retrieve its body. I don't think we can defeat it without destroying all three heads. That's probably why it just sent one," Genos explained. He grit his teeth in frustration. Dammit, were their efforts for nothing?!

...No. Their ultimate goal was to defend the city. It was impossible for them to predict the Mysterious Being's capabilities, but things hadn't escalated as far as they were concerned.

His scanners detected a massive energy spike. He froze, as he observed the monster from a distance. The way it weaved its tentacles around a ball of energy was very very reminiscent of its younger sibling. The condensed ball of energy continued to grow larger and larger…

Why wasn't it stopping?!

"Genos?! What is happening over there?!" yelled Reinhardt, but at this point, it was impossible not to see the skyscraper-sized energy ball in the distance. It grew rapidly, its size easily trumping that of its siblings. The ball continued to grow until it was larger than the monster itself, its tendrils no longer capable of wrapping around it. Just how powerful was this Mysterious Being?!

"Reinhardt! Are you capable of blocking a shot like that?!" He could hear the tint of desperation in his own voice.

He grunted in response. "Ugh, I'd like to say yes, but…!"

"Damn… get out of the way Reinhardt!" He did as he was told. Pharah watched in awe as he took off his shirt, revealing an interior that was purely mechanical. Metal adorned every bit of his body, she spotted not a single bit of flesh where his abdomen should be.

Her awe rose as a compartment on his upper body opened up, forcing her to peer through the cracks between her fingers at what appeared to be a glowing core centered in what appeared to be a chest-mounted cannon. But she clearly recalled what he said earlier about his core power.

"Genos!" she yelled through the loud humming. "If you launch another attack like that you'll…!"

"There's no other option right now!" he yelled through clenched teeth. Dammit, could she really argue right now? "Reinhardt, if this doesn't work, try and block the shot with your shield!"

"You got it!" The large man gave him a thumbs up. Genos grunted in acknowledgment and looked forward at their opponent.

The energy ball was now massive enough to make the monster look puny in comparison. There was no way they could dodge a shot like that. What other choice did they have but to take it head on?

The air bent apart as the monster threw the ball forward, its lower half dipping into the ocean. Water sizzled into nothing as the concentrated energy blasted towards the coast. As it grew closer and closer, Genos could only grunt in annoyance.

 **"Ultra Spiral Incinerate!"**

Once again a massive beam of energy erupted from his chest, blasting forth unto the miniature sun. The two forces collided with a massive bang, followed by a loud screeching noise emanating from the point where they met. Pharah and Reinhardt braced themselves, as the wind pressure from Genos' attack threatened to throw them into the sand.

Pharah and Reinhardt both watched in awe as the two powerhouses met in a clash that would undoubtedly carve its way into history. Genos was indeed powerful, yet they could resonate with his determination to defend the city.

Reinhardt watched through tightened feet and an unwavering gaze. He didn't doubt Genos' strength one bit, but even he could tell that Genos' was losing this clash. Steadily the massive ball of energy pushed against his beam. If he kept this up, his core would…

"Genos! Move out of the way! I will take over!" yelled Reinhardt.

"Negative! Wait until the beam subsides!" Genos yelled back. He had to stall for as long as possible. Even if his core ran out of power, even if he shut down with no way of ever waking up again, he would never succumb to monsters. He had to defend this city, even if it cost him his life.

Then Reinhardt kicked him to the side.

He shut off his cannons, his cannon suddenly thrown off balance. As he landed on the sand with a thump, he gazed up in shock as Reinhardt stood in his place, his shield already up.

"REINHARDT!" Genos went unheard, however. Instead, he heard Reinhardt roar in laughter, like the massive orb of destruction lumbering towards him was the funniest thing he ever saw.

"Come at me you big ball!" Had the senile old man gone crazy? Genos didn't know. The orb was now inches away. All he could do was trust that he could stand his ground, and hope that-

A blur of yellow and red dashed in front of them, immediately shattering Reinhardt's shield. A crimson fist rushed forward, vaporizing the orb within an instant.

Red boots became an invisible blur as they rapidly tapped against the ice, leaving behind a trail of mist that drifted mindlessly. The guardian could only watch in surprise as baldness and a soggy suit that desperately needed some laundering entered its peripheral vision.

The guardian then heard the figure mutter these words.

 **"Killer Moves: Serious Series… Serious Punch!"**

The monster… disappeared.

The clouds… disappeared.

And for a moment, the ocean split into two halves.

Genos could only watch with a small grin, as the innards of the monster vaporized into practically nothing. His gaze shifted towards the ocean, where the boiled remains of crustaceans and fish hovered for about a second until the water flowed back into place.

Then he saw his master swimming towards the shore, his face blank as usual.

"Oh, hey Genos. Hey Rein, Fareeha." he casually greeted. "Uh, are you okay Fareeha? You look pretty beat up."

Fareeha's jaw had separated from her mouth, but not so much that she lost her ability to process everything. She simply collapsed on her rear, and let out a sigh. It was strange, but somehow she felt herself slowly becoming accustomed to all the craziness that started taking place ever since they met Saitama and Genos.

It began with the Titan Omnic's assault. Then the earthquake generators in New York. They still hadn't managed to pinpoint the culprits, but at least no one was hurt. Then… this.

What would the world come to, now that these so-called "Mysterious Beings" were known to reside on Earth? How would the people react, knowing that dangerous threats like this existed? And above all, what would Overwatch's role be in all of this?

"What?! Oh come on, Saitama, I had that handled!" whined Reinhardt.

"What do you mean you had that handled? I'm a part-timer remember? I don't get paid minimum wage and a nice set of VR goggles just for slacking, you know."

"Fine, but you didn't have to make it so anticlimactic…"

"Hey, there's no helping it, okay? It's not like I want it to be anticlimactic. Do you even know how long it's been since I've had an actual legitimate battle?!"

Pharah watched as the two of them bickered. For some reason she was more surprised at their behavior than how easily Saitama dealt with the Mysterious Being.

"It's not that surprising when you really think about it." Pharah turned to find Genos slumped beside her. For the first time since meeting him, he seemed tired. Yet at the same time, he seemed content, the way the edges of his mouth curled upwards slightly. "Why do we choose to become heroes? Why do we choose to fight evil? Is it because of the purity in our hearts, or do we seek something greater?"

"...Is it wrong to embrace our inner good?" asked Fareeha.

"Not at all." Genos stared at the distance, where several waves began to form. "But I don't think my master troubles himself with that kind of thinking. Because I doubt any of us can help what we want."

Fareeha thought on what he said, and she found herself staring at her palm. Why did she become a hero in the first place? Why did she want to join Overwatch so badly? Her mother had inspired her greatly, but could she call that the source?

Or maybe… it just didn't matter in the end. The fact was that she sought to become a protector, someone who the people could look up to.

 _Jack gave her a stern glare. "Only Genos can fulfill this role. As for Saitama, well, we'll have to figure that out another time."_

She felt a pang of guilt. There was no way they actually saw Saitama finish off the monster. Could they really…?

Her thoughts were interrupted when a steady rumbling shook the beach. Immediately she shot to her feet, despite the constant aches yelling throughout her body.

"What's going on? Is it another Mysterious Being?!" Fareeha ran a hand across her bandages, while Saitama stared blankly at the horizon.

"No, it's not that. I just freed them," he elaborated, much to the others' confusion.

"Freed them?" Genos repeated. "Freed what?"

"It was that guardian. It was keeping them imprisoned. They wanted me to free them, and now that it's gone…" Fareeha tried to wrap her mind around what he said. None of this was making any sense. That monster imprisoned something? Imprisoned what exactly?

The small tides that crashed against the shore increased in size, as something massive rose in the distance. It rose higher and higher into the air, its form large enough to blot out the sun. Its body was dark blue, and a large silver jaw appeared to be very reminiscent of a massive whale.

But what really separated it from regular whales was how numerous its many fins were. In fact, they had to count at least a dozen fins from this side. Massive purple crystals glistened across its entire body, but most of them culminated at its head, where two beady eyes gazed across the horizon. It continued to fly upwards, towards the sky and past the clouds.

Then more of them followed after it, though significantly smaller, they still boasted a size massive enough to match the cityscape. They followed after what appeared to be their leader, vanishing into the sky. The trio watched the bizarre migration with awe and wonder.

📬︎📬︎📬︎❄ ︎ ︎■︎😐 ✡□︎◆︎📪︎ ︎❒︎ 📬︎

Saitama nodded. "Yeah, no problem."

Pharah looked at him weirdly. "Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. It was just being polite." Pharah had no idea what he meant, but did it really matter?

This was one day she was never going to forget.

* * *

Lucio, Angela, and Helen all stood in the crowd, their jaws having long filed the divorce papers for their mouths after witnessing the migration take place.

Angela's phone rang. "Uh, hello?"

"Doc?" It was Hana who called. "You are seeing this, right?"

"...Yes. Yes I am."

As the people of Overwatch, the Mariana crew members, and the entire world watched what could be described as the most bizarre series of events to take place in history, things remained much quieter elsewhere.

* * *

Ana hummed peacefully. This garden really was nice. The birds never stopped humming, the bees enjoyed the company of the flowers…

It reminded her just how much heroes strove for this. Especially him.

Her eyes lingered towards the sky, observing in silent wonder as the Wanderers left their prison, and headed towards the vast horizon. Her bewilderment turned to nostalgic, as she remembered the story he told her all those years ago…

 _Ana sat silently in the corner. She really didn't like how crowded this place was. She got that the Mariana crew was having their departure ceremony, but did they have to be so loud about it? She gazed across the room, where some bald guy was speaking with a… viking?_

 _Why did she feel like these people weren't actually getting work done?_

 _Curiosity soon replaced her annoyance, as a small kid wearing a hoodie did a terrible job of espionage. He was peering from behind a sign, making his legs painfully obvious. She suppressed a chuckle._

" _C-Can I help you?" she asked, unable to contain her mirth. The kid's eyes widened when he realized he had been compromised, but he made his way towards her with trembling legs._

 _He held out his comic book. "U-Um, hi. C-Can I have your autograph?"_

 _Ana blinked. Oh, that was what he was here for. She thought he might be spying him. Kids were kids, after all. They did weird stuff. But this one just seemed to be a bit shy._

 _Still, it begged the question, "My autograph? How come?"_

 _The kid swallowed a lump in his throat, but managed to swallow his anxiety. "B-Because you're a hero! I-I'm a big fan of Overwatch, and… and I really love how cool everyone is!"_

 _Ana was a bit taken aback by his words. She recalled her times on the battlefield. She remembered the atrocities she committed during those times of war, and the comrades she couldn't save_

 _She forced a smile. "That's flattering, it really is. But… I don't think I'm a hero. You're probably better off speaking with McCree, or maybe Angela."_

" _Whaaaaat?" he whined. "But those guys are boring. Their costumes are so generic. And besides, why should other people decide who is a hero and who isn't? It's not like heroes are perfect."_

 _There it was, that childlike naivety. She'd tell him to let go of those ideals, but it wasn't like he was her child. In fact, Fareeha might get along with this kid should she ever meet him. The thought terrified her._

" _Well, if you really insist on it, then…" She gently took the comic book and pen out of his hand, and summoned her cursive lessons to the front of her mind to make her signature look as neat as possible._

 _As she handed it back to the child, she asked, "What's 'The Agulreb Wanderers'? I don't think I've heard of a comic book with that name."_

" _I-It's not a comic book, it's a manga!" he countered._

 _Ana tilted her head. "Aren't they the same thing?"_

" _No! There are several definitive reasons why manga is different from comic books!" He shook his head in denial. Ana could only let out an amused huff._

" _You youth and your comic books. You should try indulging yourself in actual literature."_

" _Wh- manga IS literature!" He pouted. Ana knew he wasn't going to back down on this argument, so she decided not to press on it._

" _Fine, fine." She waved her hand. "So what's it about?"_

" _I-It's about an underwater prison where an evil warden keeps exotic species as trophies! But then the hero, Mittle Man comes along and beats up the warden and frees them all!" Yup, that definitely sounded like something this kid would read. "I wanna be like Mittle Man someday!"_

" _A hero you mean?" Now she was certain he would get along with Fareeha. "It's not exactly easy you know. You need to work hard, and you need to stay determined."_

" _I know, I know! I'm gonna come up with some exercise routine so I can get super strong! I even have my hero outfit all set up!" He tugged on his hoodie, where a crudely drawn flame pattern adorned the zipper. Ana raised an eyebrow._

" _...Did you draw on it with a crayon?" she asked like it wasn't obvious._

" _...N-No." He glanced to the side, whistling a tune. "Um… oh yeah! My hero name. I still need to come up with one."_

" _Hero name?" repeated Ana._

" _Yeah! Every good hero needs to have a cool hero name. Um, I haven't come up with one yet. Do you have any suggestions?"_

 _Ana thought for a moment. "Hm, no, sorry. I'm drawing a blank here."_

" _Oh, " he said, dejectedly. "That's okay! I'll just ask Aizic! Bye Ana! Thanks for the signature!" She waved him goodbye, watching as he approached the bald man. Children could be so innocent. She could only hope he wouldn't have to suffer the same experiences she went through._

She only saw him once after that. It amazed her, just how strong he had become. And it pained her to know that she hadn't gotten the chance to even say sorry yet.

Once more her eyes lingered towards the monument. It depicted three people standing next to each other. Jack and Gabriel stood next to each other. Gabriel looked so happy back then. And it was a shame that Jack never actually had the chance to meet the man standing in the center.

If one looked closely, they could discern a flame pattern adorning the man's suit, right down the center where his zipper was. He stood proudly with his arms on his hips. And quite the epithet he had chosen.

"You always were quite aloof, weren't you, Blast?" That was the name he chose. That was the name they knew him by. It meant much to her, that he decided to tell her his real name. "I hope one day we can see each other again."

Ana left the garden, as memories of the golden age began to resurface.

* * *

Next Time: The Summit


End file.
